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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23597146">Why Should Time Only Move Forward?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodhotcocoa/pseuds/goodhotcocoa'>goodhotcocoa</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Gravity Falls</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Relativity Falls, Birthday, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Manipulation, Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possession, Time Travel, Unrequited Crush, Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 00:20:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>41,522</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23597146</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodhotcocoa/pseuds/goodhotcocoa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A fateful encounter with an old woman changes everything - a slightly different take on Relativity Falls.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>107</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>91</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. IF I TOLD THEM A STORY, COULD THEY LISTEN?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>It's been a good ten billion years since I've written fic, but I've always wanted to do something for Relativity Falls! It's my favorite Gravity Falls AU and I really wanted to put my own spin on it and do something just a little bit different. This first chapter's more of a prologue, and then we'll get into more of the AU next time around. Definitely don't expect this one to be a 1:1 episode-by-episode rewrite. Italics are past, regular text is present, but it's all relative really!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>Stanley ran as soon as the glass broke.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>There wasn’t even time to think. The glass case couldn’t hold his weight, and before he knew it he’d fallen in and shattered it. After that it was only a matter of time before he woke up the whole house, and before his old man came into the shop and saw the mess.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>So, he pocketed the gold chain and he ran. He didn’t stop until he reached the pier, the sound of the ocean reminding him where he was and bringing him back down to Earth. The place was pretty quiet - even though the lights were lit, it was late enough that people were starting to head home, and the crowds of the day had become a few drunk stragglers and tired carnies looking to close up for the night.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He held onto the rickety pier and caught his breath, in and out, and realized that something on his cheek felt...sticky? When he went to touch it, his fingertips came back red. It wasn’t the worst cut he’d ever gotten, but he still felt a little dumb for getting hurt. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Need a band-aid, kiddo?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He froze, immediately worried he was in trouble or he got caught or someone saw, but when he did finally turn it was...just an old lady?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>The first thing he noticed is that she looked flat-out out of place. She was too friendly-looking to be a local, and it was definitely weird for an older tourist woman to be out on the boardwalk by herself so late. She looked oddly comfortable though, in a cozy sweater and a long skirt. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Uh…” Stan struggled to find the right thing to say, and he settled on the wrong thing. “Ain’t it past your bedtime, Granny?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Surprisingly, she just laughed.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“ I don’t have a bedtime,” she said, grinning. “But you probably do, you little rascal!”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He frowned, but she took the hint that she’d struck a nerve. So instead, she reached into her bag and pulled out what she promised - a band-aid.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Are you gonna run if I come stick this on your face?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Stan considered that for a moment, and then finally shook his head, letting her approach. She crouched down right beside him, and he let her wipe away the little bit of blood and place the band-aid with a “Bop!”. When she finished, he touched it carefully.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“...Aren’t you gonna ask what happened?” he asked. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Adults usually gave him the third degree, even if he hadn’t actually done anything to deserve it. Someone being nice just to be nice was...weird. Even kind of suspicious.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Nope,” she said. “Not unless you want to tell me.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He didn’t. She didn’t press him either. Instead she just stood up, and leaned against the railing right next to him.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Nice night, huh?” The sea breeze blew her long gray hair around, and Stan had no idea what to make of her.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“...Yeah, I guess,” he muttered. “What are you doing here so late though?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“It’s a secret.” The smile she gave was mischievous.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“That’s kinda creepy,” he said. “But if you were gonna kidnap me you prolly already would’ve done it by now.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Wow, now who’s the little creep?” she laughed. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Both of them laughed, until the laughter faded into nothing but crashing waves. A silence settled between them.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“I...broke something.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>The woman looked at him curiously, but waited for him to continue on his own. It took him a minute.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“I wanted to do something nice for Pa,” he said. “But I just messed it up, and now he’s gonna be ticked off ‘cause I broke the case and I just kinda bolted and now he’s gonna march up to my room and only Ford’s gonna be there and he’s gonna know it was me and-- I’m pretty screwed, lady.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Why did he take off? What was his plan from here? Just bum around on the boardwalk until he had to go home? He set his head on his arms, looking between the bars of the railing down at the sea.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>The woman went quiet almost long enough for Stan to wonder if she’d even heard him. Then, there was a gentle hand on his shoulder.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Why don’t we take a walk?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>It was better than mulling around the tourist part of town late at night, and he was pretty sure he could run faster than her, so he pushed himself upright. There was something warm about the way she looked at him.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Lead the way, Pumpkin.”</i>
</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <i>Stan took her all through the neighborhood, babbling the entire way. She mostly let him just talk and talk about whatever was on his mind. She heard all about his genius brother and his parents. He told her about how his father is never, ever impressed by anything, and she gave increasingly silly suggestions.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“How about...an albino giraffe?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Hmph. Just a giraffe they didn’t finish painting. Lazy.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Oh! I know! A waffle with big meaty arms!”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“I refuse to be impressed by breakfast food.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>It had the two of them giggling quietly through the streets, until they finally reached Pines Pawns. The lights were on, including the one in his bedroom. Whatever conversation was going on inside was happening loudly enough that they could hear it from the sidewalk.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Oh no.” Stan could feel his stomach bottom out.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>The woman placed her hand on his shoulder, gripping it carefully. The good cheer was gone from her face as she looked at the door.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“...Can you keep a secret?” she asked.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Stan nodded, but he wasn’t sure how that would be relevant now, when his father was about to murder him.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Good. Hold still.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>She pulled him into a hug, but even though her arms were around him she was rummaging through her bag for something. It was definitely more than a little weird.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Uh. ...What are you doin’?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Sorry,” she said. “Everything always falls to the bottom of this stupid thing!”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“That wasn’t an answer,” he pointed out, but she ignored him.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Got it!” She hoisted her bag back up on her shoulder and started fiddling with whatever it was. “Just hold tight, sweetie.” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>There was a bright flash without warning, and Stan screwed his eyes shut and pressed his face into her, clinging tight more for his own safety than for a hug. It only lasted about a second, and then when it was over everything seemed the same - except, all of the lights in the house were off.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“What?! What the heck was that? What did you--”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>The lady shushed him, and pointed at an old antique clock in the window of the pawn shop. It took Stan a minute, but he gasped as soon as it clicked.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“11 o’clock. That’s gotta be more than an hour ago…” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“That should probably be enough time, if you hurry,” she said. Then, she winked at him. “Better head up to bed before you catch yourself out here.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Stan had no idea what to say. This time travelling weirdo had just saved his butt, and all he could do was stare. Eventually, she burst out laughing.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“What are you waiting for? A kiss on the cheek? Get up there!”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>That was enough of a push. He didn’t have to be told twice after that.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He settled back into bed, narrowly missing himself sneaking out in the first place, but he didn’t fall asleep. Soon, he heard what his father must have heard - the crash of glass - but he shut his eyes and did his best impression of sleeping.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Eventually, Filbrick opened the door, but when he saw both of his sons were out cold, he left without a word.</i>
</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>“Stanley! Stan, wake up!”</p><p>Stan could feel himself being jostled by more than just the bus and whined a little before cracking his eyes open.</p><p>“The bus driver said the next stop is ours!” Ford said, adjusting his glasses. “You’ll never <i>believe</i> some of the things I’ve seen out the window.”</p><p>“Oh yeah? You sure <i>you</i> weren’t dreaming?” Stan asked, giving him a playful shove.</p><p>“If I was then we’d both still be dreaming and we’d miss our stop.” </p><p>Ford shoved him back, and it turned into a playful shoving match until their bus slowed to a halt. Then they grabbed their things and scrambled off the bus, before realizing the bus stop was literally just a sign in the middle of the woods, with no signs of civilization anywhere.</p><p>“Uh. This was definitely the right stop, right?” Stan asked, squinting into the distance.</p><p>“It was the stop for Gravity Falls…” Ford replied, though he didn’t sound too certain anymore. “I think she was supposed to meet us here?”</p><p>“Welp! Guess we live in the forest now!” Stan declared. </p><p>Before Ford could protest, a car horn interrupted the two of them, and they saw a red convertible peeling down the road so fast that they both staggered back to give it space. Both of the boys missed the plate number, and it screeched to a halt right in front of them. An old woman was driving, and casually leaned back on her seat.</p><p>“Aw, you kids beat me here!” she said. “Sorry, my last tour ran a little late. But I’m here now! Your professional chauffeur and professional Grauntie, at your service!”</p><p>“I don’t think you’re a professional at either of those things, Grauntie Mabel.” Ford was glad to see their summer guardian, but not especially thrilled at the idea of getting in a car with her.</p><p>“I call shotgun!” Stan yelled, tossing their bags in the trunk and then practically flinging himself in the front seat.</p><p>Grauntie Mabel laughed, and affectionately ruffled his hair.</p><p>“You kids are gonna have the best summer ever. It’s a Mabel Pines guarantee!”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>pdeho lv qrw zkhq vkh vhhpv</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. IT ALL STARTED WITH A WOMAN, A LONELY WOMAN</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Stan and Ford get to know the locals, and Grauntie Mabel gets to know the forest.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Welcome back! That you for all of the kudos so far. We're finally getting to the actual AU today! ♥</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After just a couple days, Stan and Ford were already feeling at home in Gravity Falls.</p><p>Their Great Aunt Mabel (or “Grauntie Mabel” as she insisted they call her) ran a tourist trap on the edge of town called the Mystery Shack. It was the kind of thing their old man would have scoffed at and called a waste of money if he ever drove by it, but the kids adored it. It was full of fake monsters and cryptids and even though they knew their Grauntie had cobbled them all together with staples and glitter glue, the two of them thought it was probably the coolest place they had ever seen.</p><p>She offered the two of them the chance to work in the Shack for the summer and they both jumped on it for entirely different reasons.</p><p>“Wish Dad sold stuff like this,” Stan said, flicking a Mabel bobble-head so it would wiggle around.</p><p>“I wonder if Grauntie Mabel’s ever looked for a <i>real</i> Jack-a-lope,” Ford added, only half listening to Stan as he inspected a rabbit with antlers that Grauntie Mabel had labeled an “Antelabbit”.</p><p>“Nah dawg,” Soos chimed in, from where he was fixing a light bulb nearby. “I’m pretty sure Ms. Pines hasn’t left this town like, <i>ever</i>.”</p><p>“Right, and they’re native to the Southwest.” Ford frowned. He was really hoping she’d seen some in person. </p><p>“Wait, she’s <i>never</i> left town?” Stan asked. “That’s weirdly boring of her.”</p><p>Soos shrugged. “This old Shack’s been here as long as I can remember, and she’s always been running it. She even runs it all winter!”</p><p>Stan and Ford exchanged a glance, but neither of them had a chance to change the subject before their Grauntie dashed into the gift shop.</p><p>“Ah! My favorite niblings! There you are!”</p><p>“Uh, yeah,” Stan pointed out. “You put us to work an hour ago.”</p><p>“Oh, right,” she said. “Never mind that! I’ve got a <b>craft emergency!</b>”</p><p>Neither of the boys looked particularly shocked or appalled by this news, but Soos gasped and said, “Say it isn’t so, Ms. Pines!”</p><p>“I’m afraid it <i>is</i> so, Soos!” Mabel put a hand over her heart. “Without a new coat of industrial glitter, my newest attraction will never be able to see the light of day! And I’ve labored for weeks on the Pickaxe-ie!”</p><p>Ford raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that the doll you dressed up in miner clothes and glued a pair of wings onto?” </p><p>She didn’t elaborate. “I need you boys to run to town and get me some more glitter, pronto! ...Please? Pronto please?”</p><p>“Do we get paid extra?” Stan grinned.</p><p>Mabel dangled a ring of keys and then tossed them to him. “No, but you get to drive the golf cart!”</p><p>“Eh, I’ll take it,” Stan said. “Plus we haven’t even seen town yet!”</p><p>“I was starting to think no one else actually lived here,” Ford playfully added.</p><p>“You rascal, where do you think I get half my customers?” Mabel laughed, and handed Ford a small wad of money. “Now get going and bring me back the biggest glitter container you can find!”
</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>The biggest container, it turned out, was the size of an oil barrel. It took both Stan and Ford to get it up on the back of the golf cart, and it was heavy enough to make the back tires sink.</p><p>“Pretty sure I could swim in that thing like a pool,” Stan said, squinting at it in the rear-view.</p><p>“Is...that a sticker that says ‘DO NOT SELL TO MABEL PINES’?” Ford asked, once he had a chance to turn and look.</p><p>“Well, technically they sold it to us and not her, so it’s probably alright.”</p><p>The two of them drove along for a while, checking out the different sights to see in town. For a tiny town, there were a lot of really cool things - an arcade, laser tag, some kind of Halloween store that was open in the middle of summer for some reason. It definitely felt like there was more to do in Gravity Falls than in Glass Shard Beach, where every third business was shuttered unless you worked on the boardwalk.</p><p>“We got enough change to get something to eat?” Stan asked. “I really, <i>really</i> wanna know if that place sells logs or real food.”</p><p>“What’s wrong with you?” Ford laughed. “Why would a diner sell people logs?”</p><p>“‘Cause it’s log-shaped!”</p><p>“Stanley, no.”</p><p>The two of them pulled over and headed inside, claiming a booth for themselves near a window. Soon, a girl who looked about their age came by with a pad of paper.</p><p>“Hee, what’ll it be, boys?” she said. She looked at the two of them with an expectant smile and an intense stare that left Ford deeply uncomfortable.</p><p>“What’s the most log-shaped food you got here?” Stan asked, wiggling his eyebrows.</p><p>“Uh...probably meatloaf?” She had to think about it for a moment. “Yeah, I think the meatloaf comes in a log.”</p><p>“Ew, pass.” Stan wrinkled his nose. “How about some pancakes instead? An order for me and my brother here.”</p><p>Ford shot Stan a look for calling attention to him, but the waitress just gasped.</p><p>“Oh! And you’re twins too!” Then, she turned and called out to another girl behind the counter. “PRISCY! DID YOU HEAR THAT? THEY’RE <i>TWINS!</i>”</p><p>She was loud enough that a couple of people turned to look, and Ford sank down. He made absolutely sure his hands stayed under the table. Stan didn’t mind the attention so much, but he was a little more wary now that eyes were on them. The girl just laughed.</p><p>“Aw, sorry to spook you,” she said. “Me and Priscilla saw you two pull up in your golf cart! Combined we know just about everybody in town, and we’d never seen you cuties before.” </p><p>“<i>Cuties?</i>” Ford practically choked out.</p><p>“Wink!” She said out loud, as she did so.</p><p>This changed Stan’s tune <i>entirely</i>, and he grinned wide.</p><p>“Yep! Identical twins right here,” he said. “I’m Stanley, and this cool guy right here’s Stanford. Stan and Ford are good though. And who’re you, uh. ...Sugar...baby kitten...pie?”</p><p>“Stanley, if you keep this up I am going to take the keys and leave you here,” Ford hissed.</p><p>She burst into giggles. “I’m Susan! Well, I hope I’ll be seeing you two around.”</p><p>Then Susan headed off to place their order, and Ford couldn’t help noticing she immediately went to whisper something in Priscilla’s ear that made the two of them laugh up a storm.</p><p>“Ford! Ford, someone <i>likes</i> us!” Stan said, practically bouncing in his booth seat. “Ford we could have <i>summer girlfriends!</i>”</p><p>“She was making fun of us, Stanley. Besides, she was talking to you anyway.”</p><p>“Nah, she was definitely talking to both of us! Did you see her blushing? She was definitely blushing up a storm.”</p><p>“Just don’t drag me into it, okay?” Ford frowned. “Even if they were interested, they wouldn’t be if they saw my hands up close.”</p><p>“Aw, chin up Ford.” Stan reached over to punch him in the arm. “Not every girl’s gonna be Cathy. Who knows? Maybe she’ll be into it!”</p><p>“That’s not helping.”</p><p>The two of them nearly jumped out of their skin when a bell rang out nearby. It was a familiar sound, but just not one they were expecting to hear in a diner of all places - the sound of someone winning a strong man game. Ford peeked out in the aisle and Stan fully turned around in his seat to see a buff teenager at the machine with short red hair and the beginnings of a beard.</p><p>“Pancakes for everyone!” he yelled, and the whole diner cheered.</p><p>“Looks like Boyish Dan won you boys your brunch,” Susan called out from the counter. “Congratulations!”</p><p>Stan just stared for a while, and felt his face get hotter and hotter until Ford gently kicked him under the table to remind him not to stare.</p><p>“Ford, is <i>everyone</i> in town like this?” Stan asked, his voice hushed as much as possible - which wasn’t much.</p><p>“Like what?” Ford tilted his head.</p><p>“Like…never mind.” Stan shook his head. “Forget it. But hey! Free pancakes!”</p><p>Ford didn’t look terribly convinced, but Stan wasn’t about to cave either. So the two of them enjoyed their free pancakes and at Ford’s insistence, did not stick around long after.
</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>“There’s supposed to be a lake around here somewhere,” Stan said. “I heard Soos saying somethin’ about it.”</p><p>“Didn’t Grauntie Mabel want her glitter as soon as possible?” Ford was already very tired of all this and more than a little miserable.</p><p>“Aw, come on! It’s not the ocean, but it’s still a body of water! We’ll just check it out and then go right back, promise.”</p><p>There was a lot to be said for Stan’s promises, but Ford wasn’t the one driving so it ultimately did not matter much.</p><p>“I suppose it won’t hurt,” he muttered.</p><p>“That’s the spirit, Sixer!”</p><p>Soon, because Stan absolutely floored it from Point A to Point B, they arrived at Lake Gravity Falls, and it was actually fairly peaceful. There didn’t seem to be any other people around, so they had the place all to themselves. Honestly it was a relief after the diner, at least for Ford.</p><p>“Well, it’s definitely not the ocean, but...it’s nice,” he said.</p><p>“Yeah,” Stan agreed. “Kinda makes me miss the Stan O’War though.”</p><p>“We’ll get back there. We have to go home at the end of summer anyway, right?”</p><p>The thought was touching, but Stan was gaping at something out on the water. Ford followed his gaze until he soon realized exactly why. There was something rising out of the water like Godzilla, a sea monster with steam pouring out of its mouth. The boys screamed as it rushed closer, but when it got near the dock it slid to a halt...and its head popped open.</p><p>“Ugh, I can never reach that last doggone stick shift!”</p><p>A boy climbed up out of the hole and gave one of the top panels a couple of good kicks until the “monster” finally stopped breathing steam. Then he turned and caught sight of the Pines twins.</p><p>“What’re y’all doing here?” he called out. “Fishing season doesn’t start ‘til this weekend!”</p><p>“Can’t a couple guys just visit a lak--?” Stan started, but was cut off by Ford.</p><p>“What are you using to power that?”</p><p>“Steam turbines!” the boy shouted back. “It’s got a leak somewhere though, and it keeps coming out the Gobblewonker’s mouth!”</p><p>“Don’t tell anybody that!” Stan yelled back. “It looks real cool!”</p><p>“What if you used an AIP?” Ford suggested. “Or maybe a diesel system?”</p><p>“I reckon I could,” the guy scratches his chin. “But dad said I’m finally old enough to try working with nuclear reactors.”</p><p>“How old is that?”</p><p>“Fourteen! I-- I’m just gonna come down there. Gobblewonker’s gotta cool off anyway, or she’ll explode.” </p><p>Ford was transfixed, his cheeks pink as this strange Southern-sounding boy scaled down the side of this robot sea monster he’d built himself. </p><p>“F...Ford!” He stammered out, “I-I’m Ford, and this is my brother Stan!”</p><p>“How’s it hangin’?” Stan finger-gunned as a greeting.</p><p>“Ford?” The boy blinked, and then laughed. “That’s real funny! I mean, not that your name’s funny, I’m-- my name’s Fiddleford. Fiddleford McGucket.”</p><p>“Huh! What a coincidence,” Ford said, starry-eyed. “And your dad really lets you use nuclear reactors?”</p><p>“Only if I promised not to wreck the whole town with some sort of evil animatron,” Fiddleford said, rolling his eyes. “He’s no fun.”</p><p>“Ha! I like this guy!” Stan gestured at their new pal. “He’s like a cartoon villain!”</p><p>A calm, even voice called out from the nearby Bait and Tackle shop, and all three of the boys looked up.</p><p>“Fiddleford? Don’t you leave that parked near the shore! Son, we’ve talked about this!”</p><p>Fiddleford cupped a hand around his mouth to yell back. “She’s gotta cool down! I’ll move her in a few minutes!” Then, to the Pines brothers he added, “I should probably head inside. I’ll see you around town?”</p><p>“See ya, Fiddlesticks!” Stan waved.</p><p>“Y-Yes! Absolutely. We’ll see you again,” Ford said, probably a little too seriously. “At some point.”</p><p>They parted ways, and Ford watched as Fiddleford headed to his father’s shop. Ford could hardly believe it. Another young genius, just like himself!</p><p>“I think you were right, Stanley,” he said. “Everyone in town is absolutely like that.”</p><p>“Wait, what did I say?” Stan asked. “Everyone’s like what?”</p><p>“...Never mind.” Ford gestured to the parked golf cart. “We should probably bring Grauntie Mabel her glitter.”</p><p>“Yeah, guess so. I wonder what she’s been doing all day without us?”</p><p>Ford shrugged, and the two of them made their way back to the cart for the short drive back to the Shack.
</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>“I know it was one of these…”</p><p>Mabel had spent the last hour knocking on various trees on the Mystery Shack’s property. She was pretty sure there was also a log nearby, but it turned out that in a redwood forest there were often a lot of logs just laying around wherever.</p><p>Finally, she heard what she was looking for - a tin, metallic sound.</p><p>In a hurry, she pulled open the secret compartment and flipped the power on, which opened a hidden door in the grass. Inside that hole was something more important than anyone in Gravity Falls could ever imagine - something only she knew about.</p><p>An old, hand-bound red journal, with a gold six-fingered hand on the front of it.</p><p>“There you are, number three.” Mabel grinned. “Come to Mama!”
</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>
<i>The next morning, Stanley wasn’t sure whether what happened the night before was something real or something he imagined. Was Pa mad? Did he break the case at all? Then, he got a look in the mirror and saw all the evidence he needed - a band-aid still stuck to his cheek.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>When he and Ford made their way to the beach that morning to go exploring though, there was no sign of the mystery woman on the pier. It was as though she’d never been there at all.</i>
</p><p><br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>wklv vkrrwlqj vwdu wklqnv vkh'v fohyhu<br/>
exw fdq vkh nhhs wklv xs iruhyhu?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. A WOMAN WHO SOUGHT OUT FAMILY FUN</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ford can't understand why they're so popular all of a sudden, and Stan can't understand why Ford has to look a birthday gift horse in the mouth. Mabel digs herself many holes.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for all the kudos, views, and comments! ♥ This one took a little longer, but there's a lot going on in here. I also updated the content warnings, but it's mostly for some passing comments so I promise it isn't a total tone change. Enjoy the birthday shenanigans!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“This can’t be right.”</p><p>It had been almost two weeks since Stan and Ford had arrived in Gravity Falls, and they already had something they’d never had back at home - friends other than each other. The two of them could hardly believe it.</p><p>In Ford’s case however, that disbelief was literal, which is why he was pouring over a conspiracy board with pictures of every person they had come into contact with in the past couple of weeks and little strings connecting them all, and pictures of himself and his brother in the middle.</p><p>“It doesn’t make <i>any</i> sense,” he said. “Back home not a single kid in school likes us, and here <i>everyone</i> does? Every single person?!”</p><p>Stan was there for moral support, and to eat snacks upside-down off the side of his bed while Ford worked.</p><p>“Maybe this town just isn’t full of jerks like Glass Shard Beach,” Stan pointed out. “I don’t really get why you’re upset about this anyway - it’s what you wanted! A place where we could actually fit in!”</p><p>“Stanley, it’s more than just ‘fitting in’. We’re <i>making friends!</i>”</p><p>Stan stared at him. “...You lost me.”</p><p>“There are <i>girls</i> that <i><b>like you!</b></i>” Ford smacked his pen against the string between Susan and Priscilla, labeled GOSSIPY WAITRESSES / THINK STAN’S CUTE.</p><p>“Aw, come on! They think we’re both cute!” Stan grinned. “We’re a package set, Sixer!”</p><p>“Why doesn’t that bother you?!”</p><p>“What? It’s not like we’d be kissing them at the same time! Don’t be gross.”</p><p>Ford just groaned and dragged his hand down the front of his face, before calling attention to his next piece of evidence.</p><p>“Well, what about Fiddleford, huh?” he asked. “What are the odds that a brilliant man just <i>happened</i> to move here from Tennessee with his father a year before we came to visit, and that he just <i>happened</i> to be the most talented engineer I’ve ever seen when most boys his age couldn’t tell you the difference between mechatronics and robotics! It’s completely implausible, Stanley!”</p><p>Stan rolled his eyes and finally sat up. “You don’t have to call him a brilliant man just ‘cause he’s fourteen, y’know.”</p><p>“That’s-- that’s irrelevant,” Ford said, adjusting his glasses to try and hide the flush on his face. “And besides, what about Boyish Dan then? People like Boyish Dan don’t actually exist in our plane of reality, Stanley!”</p><p>“Leave Boyish Dan alone!” Stan said, going pink himself. “It’s not his fault he’s devilishly good looking and could break both of us with his pinky. He’s a gift for everyone to enjoy!”</p><p>“W-Well, what about Soos then?” Ford stammered. “How old is he?! <i>What</i> is he?”</p><p>“Ford, breathe, okay?” Stan pushed himself off the bed and crossed over to put a hand on his shoulder. “Is any of this really bad? I mean, think about the other side of all this - what if people just, y’know. <i>Like</i> us? All this worrying and conspiracy junk is just gonna make ‘em think we’re really weirdos.”</p><p>“We are weirdos, Stanley!” Ford protested. “That’s my entire existence!”</p><p>“Well, maybe they’re weirdos too,” Stan said. “Maybe we finally found the weirdo place and we actually have friends now.”</p><p>Ford went quiet. Could it be that easy? </p><p>“...There has to be a way to prove it,” he said. </p><p>Stan thought for a moment. Then, he snapped his fingers.</p><p>“I’ve got it!”</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>“Grauntie Mabel! Grauntie Mabel!”</p><p>Mabel was sitting at the card table looking over a thick pink binder of some kind, but when the kids rushed in she closed it and rested her elbow on it casually.</p><p>“Stanley! Stanford! See? I can yell names too!”</p><p>“Grauntie Mabel, we were thinking.” Stan stepped forward to deliver the pitch.</p><p>“Dangerous, but go on.”</p><p>“Me and Ford are gonna turn thirteen this weekend,” he continued. “So...would it be cool if we had a party?”</p><p>For a second, Mabel looked weirdly shocked, but before they could call her on it she gasped dramatically.</p><p>“Oh my GOSH. I completely forgot your birthday would be in the summer!” she said. “Of course you can have a party! We’ve still got what, a few days right? That’s plenty of party planning time!”</p><p>“How many people can we have?” Stan asked. “I was thinking, oh...everyone in town, maybe?”</p><p>“Yes, definitely!” Mabel was already more excited than they were. “...Oh, hm. We’ll have to do it somewhere else though...”</p><p>“Wait, why?” Ford asked. “Isn’t there that big room with a dance floor? ...Not that I want to dance, but logically that would be a good place.”</p><p>“Normally that room’s empty,” Mabel explained. “But right now, I’m melting down something for a very important exhibit that totally isn’t made out of extremely cursed wax. It’s going to take a few days for me to clean up the b-- the mess enough for a party.” </p><p>“We can do it!” Stan offered, but Mabel quickly shut him down with a “Nope!”</p><p>“Don’t worry, kids. You’re turning thirteen! It’s a big year!” Mabel smiled at them. “I’ll make sure you rapscallions have the greatest party. I’m sure there’s somewhere in town we could rent out.”</p><p>“Where else can we have a party that will fit the whole town?” Ford asked.</p><p>They all puzzled over it for a moment, but ultimately Mabel was the one who pitched an idea first.</p><p>“Oh! I know! How about Gravity Falls elementary school?” she suggested. “One last farewell to youth before you’re technically teens!”</p><p>“What?! But that’s for lit--” Ford clamped a hand over Stan’s mouth and answered for both of them. </p><p>“That’s <i>perfect</i>, Grauntie Mabel!”</p><p>“Well, I’m off to make some calls then,” she said, scooping up her binder. “Don’t get <i>too</i> wild, party people!” </p><p>As soon as she was gone, Stan pulled away.</p><p>“Are you nuts?! An elementary school? We’re going to be teenagers!” he yelled. “That’s probably the least cool place we could have a party next to, I dunno, <i>the Sun!</i>”</p><p>“Don’t you see, Stanley? It’s brilliant!” Ford beamed. “If people actually come, we’ll know they’re actually there for us. And if we don’t, they’ll be just like everyone at home and the friendship paradox will be solved!”</p><p>Stan was skeptical, but...if this was what was going to make Ford happy, then…</p><p>“Whatever,” he shrugged. “I’m gonna go make some invitations for everybody in the phone book.”</p><p>“Wait, we don’t even know what th--”</p><p>But Stan was already gone, off to raid Grauntie Mabel’s art supplies.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>By the next day, the two of them were out on bikes hand-delivering their invitations to the whole town. Ford focused more on putting invitations in mailboxes, and had quickly gone through his entire pile. Meanwhile, Stan was taking a more personal approach and ringing the doorbell of every place he stopped at. This party was going to need all the help it could get if it was going to be at an elementary school.</p><p>“Hey there! Ever wanted to be the <i>life</i> of the party?”</p><p>The funeral director, possibly the most goth-looking adult Stan had ever seen, just stared.</p><p>“Uh. ...Is this a joke?” he said.</p><p>“No joke here Mr--” Stan leaned over to get a good look at the sign for the business. “--Valentino! Nice name, by the way. It’s got a real mobster feel.”</p><p>“I’m not going to a party for kids,” Mr. Valentino said, and started to shut the door.</p><p>“Wait, but--! We’re inviting the whole town! There’ll be other adults there!” The door slammed shut, and Stan banged on it. “There’ll be chicks! <i><b>Lots of chicks! We won’t tell your wife!</b></i>”</p><p>“Kid, <b>go home!</b>” Mr. Valentino yelled back from inside. He pulled the curtains shut and that was the end of that.</p><p>Stan pouted angrily, scribbled <b>COME OR WE’LL TP YOUR HOUSE!</b> on the invitation, and slid it under the door. Ford watched the whole thing from the road.</p><p>“...Stanley?”</p><p>His brother stilled, as though caught doing something he shouldn’t be. But then he perked right back up and swiveled around as though nothing was wrong.</p><p>“Hey Ford! Ha, get rid of all your invites already?”</p><p>“Uh, yeah. I did…” Ford said. “Stanley, are you--?”</p><p>“Great! I’m great. Never better!” He forced up a laugh. “Maybe that guy didn’t wanna come to our great party, but you should’ve seen how many people were excited about it! We’re gonna have <i>so</i> many people there. The school’s not gonna be big enough! We’ll have to move the party to the town square - maybe even turn it into a parade!”</p><p>“That’s...really unlikely, for a lot of reasons,” Ford pointed out. “Stan, are you okay?”</p><p>“I <i>said</i> I’m great!” Stan said, not sounding great at all. “But hey buddy! You said you finished your pile, right? Why don’t you take the rest of these here? You can probably get them done way faster than me anyway.”</p><p>The pile he handed Ford was still pretty large, with at least half of them still undelivered. By the time Ford could process what had just happened and what he needed to say, Stan had hopped onto his bike and pedaled away.</p><p>So, without knowing what houses Stan had already been to, Ford delivered the rest of the invitations himself.</p><p>“You didn’t have to ditch me,” Ford said later that night, after they had turned out the lights in their attic room.</p><p>“You took them, so I figured that was a yes,” Stan said, without looking over at Ford. “But look, it’s over now. I’m gonna snooze.”</p><p>“Stanley, can’t you just <i>talk</i> to me?” When he looked over though, Stan had the covers pulled up and was already breathing softly, in and out. “...Are you faking again?”</p><p>The bundle of blankets didn’t answer, and after another few minutes of waiting for Stan to slip, Ford sighed.</p><p>“Good night, Stanley.”</p><p>A good half hour passed before Stan was satisfied Ford had given up. He rolled over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, and stayed that way for a long time.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>June 15th came pretty quickly after that. Mabel and Soos had helped them set up party decorations near picnic tables, complete with balloons, streamers, and a wacky waving arm flailing tube man Mabel had found buried in a closet somewhere.</p><p>“Dudes, I heard it was your thirteenth birthday!” Soos said. “Isn’t that your bar mitzvah?”</p><p>“Well, technically yes, but we’re going to do that part when we get home,” Ford said.</p><p>“We talked about it and this way we get three extra months of not being accountable for anything we do!” Stan chimed in.</p><p>“Aw, man - and I brought this chair to lift you dudes up in!”</p><p>The second Soos held up the chair, Stan was trying to climb him like a monkey to get into it, and Ford laughed hysterically at the two of them.</p><p>“Carry me! CARRY ME!”</p><p>“Well, I think that’s about it for set up,” Mabel said, securing the last of the balloons to the Sascrotch, which they had transported and dressed up in a bow tie, top hat, and eye patch for the occasion. “Now we just wait for the guests to arrive!”</p><p>That part was agony. </p><p>They had finished setting up well before the start of the party, so there wasn’t a ton to do without anyone else there - or at least, without it feeling uncomfortably familiar. Five minutes past the start time was all Stan could take without cracking.</p><p>“Ugh, I knew nobody was going to come!” </p><p>“Pumpkin?” Mabel was fiddling with a karaoke set, but looked up when she heard him get distressed.</p><p>“Don’t you ‘Pumpkin’ me, Grauntie Mabel!” he snapped. “Who the hell is gonna come to a birthday party at an elementary school playground for <i>teenagers?</i>”</p><p>“Language!” </p><p>“WHO the <b>HECK</b>, Grauntie Mabel?!” Then, he turned his sights on Ford. “And you! Why did you want to prove this so bad, huh? You know how many times we’ve had people actually <i>wanna</i> turn up to our birthday parties? Never! We always had to invite the whole class and people’s parents made ‘em go and they were a bunch of jerks who didn’t even like us. And now we’re having a party in this stupid place, just so what? So you can prove nobody <i>actually</i> likes us enough to be here? Well congratulations, Ford! We don’t have friends again and now it’s <b>just</b> like home! Happy now?”</p><p>Ford felt like he’d been slapped in the face. “Stanley...Stanley, that’s not what I wanted at all. I just...I didn’t want to find out later that it had all been some lie.”</p><p>Stan’s arms were crossed and he was facing away from Ford. Judging by how his shoulders were shaking, he was trying not to cry. When Ford moved to put a hand on his shoulder he pulled it away.</p><p>“Stanley...I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t want to ruin our birthday. Really.”</p><p>“I’m sorry too, Sweetie,” Mabel said, moving over and gently placing a party hat on Stan’s head. “I guess I just forget sometimes that...some people are a little more ready to grow up than others. I would’ve <i>loved</i> a party like this when I was thirteen! But...I’m not you.”</p><p>That thought hung in the air for a whole sober second before she looked up and gasped.</p><p>“Stan! Ford! Over there!”</p><p>Both of the boys looked up and followed her finger to what it was pointing at - a kid digging in the dirt.</p><p>“Party guest number one?” Ford said, nudging Stan.</p><p>“I’m on it!” </p><p>Stan, still red-faced but now almost terrifyingly determined, bolted across the playground and skidded to a stop in front of a large boy who couldn’t have been more than ten or so.</p><p>“Hey kid! Yeah, you!” Stan pointed at him, and ignored the scream he got in return. “Congratulations! You’re the first guest at our birthday party!”</p><p>Ford helpfully blew a noise maker behind him, and even Soos turned up to throw some confetti. The kid was still terribly, terribly alarmed.</p><p>“I, uh-- oh! Um. Congratulations?” he stammered, and clapped his hands. “Y-Yes, yes! Congratulations! Hooray for you! Yay! Hip hip hooray!”</p><p>“Soos,” Stan snapped his fingers. “Pick him up.”</p><p>“I dunno…isn’t this like. Kidnapping?”</p><p>“Soos!”</p><p>Soos sighed, shrugged, and approached the kid with the birthday chair he had brought, intending to scoop him up and take him.</p><p>“W-W-Wait, wait! Don’t take me!” the boy said, waving his hands. “I’ll give you whatever you want! You-- you said it’s your birthday, right? I can give you a gift! You probably want a gift, right?”</p><p>Stan squinted at him, and then signaled for Soos to stop.</p><p>“...Yes. Yes, we do.”</p><p>“Stanley, no!”</p><p>Stan shushed Ford, and waited to see what this kid was willing to offer them. Nervously, the boy pulled out an old red book and a strange amulet. </p><p>“I-I just found these while I was digging here, and-- and they’re all yours! Free of charge, courtesy of Buddy Gleeful.”</p><p>Ford pushed ahead of Stan to stare at the book. It was hand-bound and scuffed up and beautiful and--</p><p>“It...it can’t be,” he said, in quiet awe. “You found this and you just <i>kept digging?</i>”</p><p>Buddy shrugged. “I wanted to see if there was more stuff buried.”</p><p>“Fair, fair,” Stan agreed, motioning for Buddy to give him the amulet. Once he got it, he put it on and slipped it under his shirt. The second the two of them had their bribes, Buddy got up and took off running.</p><p>“Guys, look.” </p><p>Ford gestured Soos and Stan closer, and both of them gasped when they saw the cover. On the front in gold was a six-fingered hand with the number 2 on it.</p><p>“This is...it had to have been written by another six-fingered person!” Ford said. “Whoever wrote these is someone like me!”</p><p>“There’s gotta be another one too!” Stan added. “There’s gotta be a number 1 around somewhere, right?”</p><p>“What if there are <i>hundreds</i> of volumes?” Ford gasped, and then laughed as he flipped through the pages. “What if he’s the most important researcher to exist and he has hundreds of volumes just-- just scattered around everywhere?! Why was this on a playground? Where are the others? Who is he?!”</p><p>“So many questions!” Soos said, and then made a head exploding gesture.</p><p>“I’m real happy for you, Sixer.” Stan rubbed his arm. “...Maybe everyone with an extra finger’s got more brain stuffed in there.”</p><p>Their conversation was cut off by the sound of an air horn, and all three of them covered their ears until it was over.</p><p>“ALRIGHT, PARTY PEOPLE!” Mabel shouted from several feet away. “THIS PARTY IS OFFICIALLY POPPING”</p><p>She blew the horn a couple more times and when the boys turned they saw that at least a couple dozen people had turned up while they were distracted. Ford tucked the Journal into his jacket and stared.</p><p>“There’s...there’s actually <i>people</i>,” he said.</p><p>“There’s <i>actually people,</i>” Stan echoed, starry-eyed.</p><p>“I made a cake!” Susan said, presenting a large three tier cake that was actually pretty well decorated.</p><p>“Who wants to play the greatest party game ever?” Boyish Dan yelled. “It’s got blindfolds and sharp axes to throw!”</p><p>Stan was bouncing on his feet eagerly, but Mabel carefully plucked the blindfolds from Boyish Dan’s boyish hands and he and Stan both whined.</p><p>A girl about their age they didn’t recognize was also there, and when asked she cheerfully introduced herself.</p><p>“Hi! I’m Janice Valentino,” she said, offering a hand to shake. “I’m here because my dad said you were going to toilet paper our house if someone didn’t go, but I’m sure he was just being a big ol’ silly billy.”</p><p>Fiddleford waved from nearby, holding two neatly-wrapped gifts for each of them. The really impressive thing was that they were clearly different sizes, so he hadn’t just gotten the same thing twice.</p><p>The party was actually a lot more fun than Ford had been expecting. There were a lot of people, but none of them were recoiling. Plenty of kids were introducing themselves and not a single person had shied away from Ford’s hands. Stan was easily bouncing around from group to group, making friends with ease but always fluttering back to Ford’s side eventually.</p><p>After delicious cake (in two different flavors, they found out after cutting it), lots of party games in varying levels of danger, a karaoke break, and more gifts, the party was winding down and Mabel blew her air horn again to call attention one more time as the sun started to set around them.</p><p>“Attention, everyone! You might have thought that was the end of the gift-give-aganza, but I’ve saved the best ones for last - mine!”</p><p>“What? You already gave us this huge party!” Ford gestured around them.</p><p>“Aw, come on,” she waved that off. “It’s your birthday! And I’ve been thinking a lot about you two anyway, and how you’re gonna be here the whole summer. I’ve told you kids before that me and your Grunkle Dipper stayed here with <i>our</i> Grunkle when we were about your age. So, I wanted to give you some of the things that made that summer special for us.”</p><p>The two boys nodded along, trying their hardest not to look too eager and miserably failing.</p><p>“Stan here reminds me a lot of me back then. He’s a real chip off the ol’ block,” she laughed. “And when I thought about what made that summer special for me, it was no question. I met all of my best friends! But there was one friend in particular that made everything even more magical - my pig Waddles.”</p><p>“You...got me a pig?” Stan raised an eyebrow.</p><p>“Not exactly,” she said. “You’re not-- you didn’t strike me as much of a <i>pig</i> guy, so I got you an animal companion of your own! Soos, grab the cage.”</p><p>Without much more warning than that there was a loud hissing noise behind them, and when Stan turned to look he was face to face with a possum in a cat carrier.</p><p>“I caught him myself!” Mabel said proudly. “You like?”</p><p>“I...I love him,” Stan said, stunned by how much he actually wants to have a possum for a pet. “I don’t think I’ve ever loved anything like I love him.”</p><p>Exactly one guest at the table awed at this display, and it was Fiddleford McGucket. The others, including Ford, just looked a little disturbed.</p><p>“Should...I be worried?” Ford asked.</p><p>“Nah,” Mabel grinned. “Yours isn’t a live animal, I promise. See <i>you</i> remind me of your Grunkle Dipper, before...well. Before.”</p><p>She wasn’t expecting that to be so hard to say, but she powered through and mustered up a smile again.</p><p>“He always loved a good mystery,” she said. “Our whole lives he loved a good mystery. But that summer, he found the biggest mysteries right in this town! I wanted to give you something that used to belong to him.”</p><p>With that, she handed Ford a rectangular gift with a few too many bows and ribbons.</p><p>“He found this one day, and it changed our <i>whole lives</i>,” she went on. “It’s got some pages missing toward the end there, ‘cause it’s probably older than me, but I figured you’d probably want the adventure of a lifetime too.”</p><p>As soon as Mabel mentioned that their Grunkle Dipper <i>found</i> it and that it had pages, Ford’s heart was pounding in his throat. Even Stan picked up on that cue and leaned over as Ford opened another hand-bound Journal, this time with a number three on the front. </p><p>“Number three…” he trailed off in awe, and placed his hand on top of the six-fingered emblem on the cover. “Grauntie Mabel! Do you know where the others are?”</p><p>“Beats me!” she said. “Could be right under our noses!”</p><p>She leans over and gently boops him on the nose before turning her attention back to the rest of the party.</p><p>“Now, let’s get these birthday boys up in some chairs!”</p><p>“Yes!” Soos gave a fist pump.</p><p>“Me first! Youngest first! Me and Shanklin wanna go first!” Stan yelled, jumping up and grabbing the possum cage.</p><p>Ford was still stunned from everything, and while everyone gathered around Stan he stayed behind and flipped through the first few pages of the third Journal. He couldn’t believe they had already gotten two!</p><p>He didn’t realize anyone was with him until he felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up at Grauntie Mabel.</p><p>“Hey kiddo. You like it?”</p><p>“I love it!” Ford looked up at her. “Grauntie Mabel, are all of these things <i>real?</i> This is incredible!”</p><p>“You bet they are! These guys asked me to be their Queen once.” She pointed at the cute gnome drawing. “And by asked, I mean they kidnapped me.”</p><p>“Woah…”</p><p>“If you think that’s cool, you should check it out under a black light sometime,” she winked. “It’s full of all these codes and puzzles and all sorts of stuff my brother loved.”</p><p>Something about that rang familiar to him. Maybe it was the winking or her trying really hard to be at ease, but...for a second, she really reminded him of Stanley.</p><p>“...I’m sorry about Grunkle Dipper,” he said, quietly. “I wish we could’ve met him.”</p><p>Mabel’s face fell for a second, but when she picked her smile back up it was a little more sincere this time.</p><p>“Yeah, well. It happens to everyone someday,” she said, gently ruffling his hair. “Don’t get old, Fordsie.”</p><p>“FORD! FORD GET UP HERE!” Stan yelled from where Soos was literally bouncing him up and down on a chair. He was clinging to the possum cage for dear life.</p><p>“Sounds like it’s your turn,” Mabel said. “And, uh. Sorry this isn’t a real bar mitzvah, by the way. I figured your old man would have my neck if we did that whole thing unofficially and you two probably still need to practice anyway.”</p><p>“It’s okay,” Ford said. “Really. This was the best party we’ve ever had!”</p><p>He set the Journal down and went to go join the others, but something nagged at his mind after that. Mabel was right. Their faith was really important to their father, so…</p><p>...so, why would he send them away for their thirteenth birthday?</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>Hours passed. All the kids went home, even Stan and Ford, and Mabel stayed behind to clean up.</p><p>“You sure you don’t need anymore help, Ms. Pines?” Soos asked when she told him to go. “It’s getting kinda late.”</p><p>“Nah, I’ve got it from here Soos,” she said. “I’ve got a canteen full of Mabel Juice and determination to spare!”</p><p>“Well...if you say so,” he said. “See you tomorrow, Ms. Pines!”</p><p>She waved him off, and kept waving until his truck was a speck in the distance. Then, she grabbed a rusty shovel out of her trunk.</p><p>“Why did you <i>have</i> this...?” she whispered to herself.</p><p>It didn’t matter much. Party clean up forgotten, Mabel started to dig. And dig. And she kept digging holes around the elementary school for hours, until the moon was high up in the sky and she was tired to the bone.</p><p>“Where <i>is</i> it?” She leaned hard against the shovel, and yelped when the handle actually snapped.</p><p>There wasn’t anywhere left to dig. She’d have to fill in all of these holes, clean up the party, and she didn’t even have the second journal to show for it. That wasn’t the real problem though. Mabel dragged her hands down her face.</p><p>“<i>Ugh.</i> I can’t believe I have to talk to <i>Gideon</i>...”</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <i>”So, you got grounded for your birthday, huh?” the time-traveler said, chin resting in her hands. “That stinks.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>She was sitting criss-cross on the fire escape, and Stanley had climbed out the window to join her the second she knocked on the window. Ford had managed to sleep through the whole thing.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Yeah,” he said, looking down into the alley. “Guess it doesn’t really matter though. I mean, Pa said we still have to do our bar mitzvah, and it’s not like anybody ever turns up to our parties who actually wants to be there anyway. Ford’s the only friend I’ve got, y’know? And I’m his.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>The woman listened, just like she did the first night, and then gently ruffled his hair.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Aw, Pumpkin. That’s so sad,” she said. “But you know what? Someday, somewhere, you know what’s gonna happen?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“What?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“You’re gonna be <b>surrounded</b> by people who love you,” she smiled. “People who will always love you, no matter what. And you’ll love them too, because you’re a big ol’ softy.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“I-- I am not!” Stan protested. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Shh, it’s a good thing. Your Pa doesn’t always know what he’s talking about, you know.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He went quiet for a moment. The thought resonated inside of his head, but he didn’t know what to do with the sound.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Are you ever gonna tell me how you know me?” he asked. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Mm. Probably not,” she said. “I can’t break the timeline <i>too</i> much.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Do you know Ford too? Why are you just hanging out with me?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Because you two are a menace together,” she confessed, and it made Stan laugh. “No, really! If I visited you both at once, you’d figure me out in a heartbeat! And don’t get me wrong, you’re a pretty clever cookie with extra chocolate chips, but you guys are unstoppable together.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Uh-huh. So I’m too dumb to figure it out?” It came out as though he was trying to joke about it, to play the card as lightly as possible.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“So, so hard on yourself,” she tutted. “Maybe I mean Ford won’t figure it out if he’s by himself and I’m taking a chance on you.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Do you mean that?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>She shrugged - it was another thing she couldn’t tell him.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“I’m going to visit Ford when he’s a little older. So don’t tell him, okay?” She pressed a finger to her lips. “I know you’re really good at keeping secrets, even from him.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Stan’s stomach turned. He and Ford had just fought earlier that day about that, about how Stan had hid the fact that he broke Pa’s glass case and took his gold chain and let them go on a wild goose chase to solve a mystery Stan already knew the answer to.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“...Yeah. Yeah, I won’t tell,” he said hesitantly. “Are you at least gonna tell me your name?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Hm…make one up for me and tell me what it is next time, okay?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“But--”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>She leaned over and planted a kiss on his forehead. “I’ve got to get going, but I’ll find you again, okay?”</i>
</p><p><i>Then she pulled her time travel device out of her bag, and Stan finally got a good look at it. It was a tape measure with an hourglass symbol on the side. The old woman playfully saluted him, gave the tape a small pull, and was gone in a flash, leaving Stan alone on the fire escape.</i>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Glg Iloeulfn irujhw?
Glg Fdubq?
Ru glg vrphrqh hovh?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. SHE SCRAPBOOKED THE THINGS SHE ENCOUNTERED</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mabel sees a scrapbookortunity, and Stan and Ford get busted.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello dear readers! This chapter's a little later than planned, but I hope the wait will have been worth it! Thank you so much for all the comments, kudos, and bookmarks. I can't believe the amount of hits it's gotten so far! The fact that people are enjoying this wild ride makes me incredibly happy, so thank you!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>Stan made a point of interrogating the old time traveler every time he saw her, but she never budged even an inch. Each time he tried to ask her about his future or about who she really was, she dodged the subject with expertise.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>This time, with a promise that she would bring him back before his father noticed he was missing again, the woman helped Stan climb down the fire escape so they could hang out somewhere they might not be spotted. Ultimately they ended up on one of the benches at the boardwalk, throwing french fries for seagulls to catch. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“I don’t get why you keep coming back here if you can’t tell me anything,” Stan whined.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Are you kidding? You’re the most fun person I know!” she said. “Even if you don’t know me yet, it’s still a blast hanging out with you. ...I missed it a lot.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“...You missed me?” he asked, quieter than usual.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>She didn’t say anything, which had quickly become code for not being able to say anything. Instead of dwelling on that though, she distracted him.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Say, did I ever show you my bag?” she asked, pulling the large magenta Boston bag into her lap.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“I mean, I’ve seen you carrying it…” Stan trailed off, though now he was looking at it curiously.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Yeah, but it’s a special bag,” she said. “One of my great uncles made it for me, so it doesn’t have a bottom.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Stan raised an eyebrow, but she just waggled hers back at him and slowly reached her arm inside. He watched as it sank deeper and deeper and deeper, until she was all the way up to her shoulder without touching the bottom at all.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“He told me never to climb inside it,” she added. “I’d be able to fit in it, but I might never actually get back out.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Then how do you actually find anything in there?” Stan asked, peeking at the bottom to make sure he wasn’t being tricked here.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Luck, mostly,” she admitted. “But there’s stuff I try and keep near the top, like the Time Tape.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“What other stuff do you keep in there?” He knew the answer already though, and pouted. “Or, lemme guess, you can’t tell me that either?” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Oh, just my treasure!”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Wait, you’ve got time travel treasure?!” he gasped. “I wanna see!”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>The woman laughed, and reached into her bag, but when she pulled it out there was no gold, or jewels, or wads of cash. Instead, it was a big pink book, heavily worn on the edges. She held the sides tight so he couldn’t open it and see the contents, but the title was clear and surrounded by stickers - SUMMER MEMORIES.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“A scrapbook? Seriously?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>She didn’t waver. “I thought you might say something like that. But I’ve been around a long time, kiddo. Memories are the most important thing you’re ever going to have, and the worst thing you could ever lose.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Stan squinted at her. “So, no real treasure?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Pfft, like I’m gonna say it out loud and bring the time police here!” Mabel said, waving a hand.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He stared hard at her bag, which absolutely, definitely had treasure in it. Probably. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Talking to you’s weird,” he admitted. “It kinda makes my brain itch? You can’t tell me nothin’, but I wanna ask so much stuff! Do you know how hard it is not to ask you for lottery numbers?!”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>The woman sputtered. “You’re not even old enough for the lottery!”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Yeah, but you could get numbers from when I’m old enough, and I could hold onto ‘em until I’m old enough, and <i>then</i> I’d be a millionaire and me and Ford could use that on the Stan O’War!” He stopped himself from rambling on though, and circled back to the point. “You can’t, but you could!”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Her smile was soft, and she reached over and ruffled his hair.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“No, I can’t. You’re right about that, you smart cookie,” she said. “But money’s not everything, Stanley.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He didn’t have a quick answer to that. He thought about his dad and the pawn shop, and how much it cost to fix boats, and how anything cheap was junk and anything worth anything, anyone <b>worth</b> anything, brought cash to the table.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>The time traveler knew that thoughtful look, and for a moment she looked sad that she’d caused it. She offered him the rest of her fries.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“So, did you ever think up a name for me?” she asked.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Hm…” Stan brought a hand up to his chin and gave it some consideration. “You look kinda like a Mavis to me.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Ha! You’re not too far off!” It actually took her by surprise, which was not something Stan had managed to do so far.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Really?!”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Yep. But you’re three letters off,” she said. Then, she stood up. “We should probably get going.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Wait, I only get one guess?” Stan complained.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“You can guess again next time! It’ll be like a cliffhanger!”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Wait, I’ve got it! Let’s go back two minutes and I can guess again now!” he suggested.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>The woman laughed and shook her head, and the two of them headed back towards Pines Pawns, leaving the pier behind.</i>
</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>Mabel and the boys were gathered in the living room, having a quiet day off from scamming tourists. </p><p>Ford had been reading the two Journals cover to cover since he had received them, trying to figure out who this fellow six-fingered person was that wrote them. At the moment though, he was curled up in her worn-out armchair with Journal 3. Stan had been the one to suggest they wait on telling Mabel about the second one.</p><p>“I mean, we <i>did</i> kinda bully it outta somebody,” Stan pointed out a couple of days ago, circling his hands around each other.</p><p>“No, you did that!” Ford said, exasperated. “That was literally all you!”</p><p>“Look, the point is she’s gonna ask us where we got it, and is she <i>really</i> gonna buy that we just found it laying around somewhere?”</p><p>“I...suppose that would be a big coincidence,” Ford admitted. Stan slung an arm around his shoulder.</p><p>“Besides, we don’t need any adults to figure out this stuff! We’ve got this, just you and me, Buddy!”</p><p>That was all it took to sell Ford on the idea, so he was making sure to only read the third Journal in front of their Grauntie. It wasn’t too much of a problem though - there was <i>so</i> much ground to cover in just one! The Journal was overwhelming, but in a way Ford found exhilarating. He wasn’t sure he would ever absorb all the strange facts it held.</p><p>Stan wasn’t reading anything. He was laying on the floor, raising Shanklin the Possum into the air with his feet, and the possum was surprisingly allowing it. The two had bonded quickly, which was unfortunate for anyone who wasn’t Stanley.</p><p>Meanwhile, Grauntie Mabel was over at the card table, sorting through photos from Stan and Ford’s birthday and arranging them carefully into a new scrapbook. Every few minutes she would stop and coo over a new one.</p><p>“Aw! Look at you precious beans!” </p><p>Instead of showing them a new picture this time, she snapped another picture when they looked up at her in unison.</p><p>“Scrapbookortunity!”</p><p>“Grauntie Mabel, not <i>everything</i> has to be a scrapbookortunity,” Stan said, rolling his eyes. “I mean, we lived through all that junk. And we’re not even doing anything right now!”</p><p>“Sure you are!” she argued. “You’re being my precious favorite niblings who I love so much!”</p><p>“We’re still your only niblings,” Ford corrected without looking up.</p><p>“That doesn’t change anything!” she said. “You’re still my favorites.”</p><p>“You know what, I changed my mind. I like this logic!” Stan decided.</p><p>“You rascals are still little,” Mabel said. “Sure, you’re a little <i>less</i> little than a week ago, but still too little to fully appreciate a good scrapbook. A scrapbook could save your life someday!”</p><p>“I could hold a scrapbook up to my chest and use it to catch bullets!” Stan joked.</p><p>“I’ve scrapbooked every moment of my life since I was three, and I’m not about to stop now!” she said.</p><p>That caught Ford’s attention. “Grauntie Mabel, does that mean you have a scrapbook from when you and Grunkle Dipper stayed here?”</p><p>“Hm...maybe somewhere…”</p><p>Just then, a phone rang from the kitchen, and Mabel stood up.</p><p>“Oh! Great timing! I’ll get it!”</p><p>When she dashed out of the room Stan and Ford exchanged a look, and quietly got up to listen by the doorway.</p><p>“Hello! You’ve reached the Mystery Shack - Madame Mystery Mabel speaking!”</p><p>Then she startled, and her entire body language changed. “Gideon?!”</p><p>She went quiet for another moment, until she uncomfortably started to laugh and twirl the phone cord with her finger.</p><p>“Ha, well...what can I say? They don’t call me Madame Mystery for nothing, you know!”</p><p>“Who is this joker?” Stan whispered, but Ford hushed him.</p><p>Whoever they were, they were apparently telling their Grauntie Mabel a long story while she stood there looking deeply uneasy. A strange thing happened over time though - she relaxed. Whatever had her so antsy was evidently no longer an issue.</p><p>But then she looked up, directly at Ford and Stan. There was no chance for them to escape.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” she said, very pointedly. “...They did <i>what,</i> Mr. Gleeful?”</p><p>“Shit, <i>shit!</i>” Stan grabbed Ford’s wrist, and the two of them ran up the stairs. They didn’t need to hear the rest of the conversation - they already knew they were in trouble.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>Within a half hour, the three of them were standing outside the Gleeful home, next to Gleeful Auto Sales. Ford’s hands were tucked behind his back and Stan was looking up at the big dollar sign balloon with wings.</p><p>“I really hope this isn’t true, boys,” Mabel said, coming as close to scolding as she had ever come in her entire life. “But let’s just clear this all up with Mr. Gleeful, and he’ll see that this is all just a big misunderstanding!”</p><p>“Ha, yeah,” Stan echoed. “It’s just a big misunderstanding.”</p><p>If Ford stared harder into the front step, he was pretty sure he would burn a hole into it. Mabel rang the bell, and the man who answered looked almost nothing like Buddy Gleeful. </p><p>His hair was blindingly white and slicked back into an impressive pompadour, and he couldn’t have been much older than their father back in New Jersey. He wore a crisp blue suit, and even though he was almost a full foot shorter than Mabel he stood with an alarming amount of confidence.</p><p>“Madame Mystery!” he said, in the sweetest and youngest-sounding Southern drawl. “Oh it is just a pleasure to finally meet you, ma’am! You’re a real celebrity around these parts, you know.”</p><p>“Why are half the people in this town Southern?” Stan blurted out. Ford elbowed him in the side.</p><p>“Oh, and these must be your nephews!” Mr. Gleeful turned his attention to the boys. “Stanley and Stanford, am I right? Oh, I’m never gonna be able to tell you little marshmallows apart!”</p><p>Stan and Ford had absolutely no idea what to do with this sort of reaction from an adult they had made angry, and the two of them noticeably hesitated.</p><p>“Um, it’s...nice to meet you too, Mr. Gleeful,” Ford said, remembering his manners for both of them.</p><p>“Aw, and so <i>polite!</i>,” Mr. Gleeful said specifically to Ford, and Ford only.</p><p>“It’s very nice to meet you too...Mr. Gleeful,” Mabel squirmed. “Actually, can I call you Gideon? There’s no need to be so formal, right?”</p><p>“Why of course not!” he said. “Not for our dear neighbor Mabel here!”</p><p>“...On second thought, maybe Madame Mystery is better,” she coughed. “Anyway! May we come in? I would really love to straighten all of this out and I’m sure Stan and Ford would too, right boys?”</p><p>The two of them mumbled something that vaguely sounded like agreement, and Gideon ushered everyone into his living room. Buddy Gleeful was already sitting on the couch, and Mabel made Stan and Ford join him there.</p><p>“So,” Gideon said, sitting in an armchair and twiddling his fingers. “My little pride and joy here tells me you two ruffians bullied him out of his priceless schoolyard treasure. Do y’all recall?”</p><p>“D-Dad, we really don’t have to do this,” Buddy cut in, deeply embarrassed by this entire meeting. “I’m fine! I told you I <i>gave</i> it to them!”</p><p>“Hush now Buddy, the grown ups are talkin’.”</p><p>“But--”</p><p>“I <i>said <b>hush!</b></i>” Gideon snapped, and it shut Buddy up in an instant. Then, he turned his attention back to the twins. “Is that or that not what happened?”</p><p>“I-I...um.” Ford couldn’t think. Everything was buzzing in his head, and the longer Mr. Gleeful looked at them the more Ford felt like he might actually murder them.</p><p>This time, it was Stan’s turn to elbow Ford.</p><p>“It wasn’t like that!” he said. “We tried to invite him to our birthday party! Didn’t you get our invitation?”</p><p>“Wait-- wait, I was invited?” Buddy asked.</p><p>“Yes!” Ford chimed in. “We invited the entire town! We spent a whole day putting invitations in mailboxes. ...You didn’t get one?”</p><p>“Hm...funny, I don’t recall,” Gideon said. “Though if I did recall, it would against federal law to put flyers in a mailbox without stamping them and sending them through the postal service.”</p><p>“Aw, come on Gideon,” Mabel tried. “It sounds like they wanted your little Buddy at the party.”</p><p>“We definitely knew who he was and definitely wanted that specifically,” Stan added.</p><p>“Oh yeah? Then why did the two of you try and kidnap him and then extort him for birthday gifts! My son, my <i>wonderful</i> boy, came home rattled to the bone about a couple of boys who tried to carry him away in a <i><b>chair!</b></i>”</p><p>The accusations turned into shrieking alarmingly quickly, and Buddy backpedaled fast.</p><p>“C-Calm down now, Dad!” Buddy said. “They didn’t mean no harm. And I <i>gave</i> them those things, as-- as gifts! I don’t see why we can’t let bygones be bygones...can’t we?”</p><p>“Yeah! We’re good pals now,” Stan said, but when he went to sling an arm over Buddy’s shoulder, Gideon lost it.</p><p>“<b><i>YOU GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF HIM!</i></b>”</p><p>“Gideon! These are children!”</p><p>Mabel stood up and crossed her arms, and something about that actually worked. Gideon looked briefly ashamed at having been caught in a social faux pas, and nervously adjusted his collar.</p><p>“My apologies, Madame Mystery,” he said. “It can be so, so hard raising a child all alone. You must understand, I wouldn’t want any…<i>harm</i> to come to him.”</p><p>“Oh, of course. You’re just protecting your baby. It’s...sweet,” she said, though she refused to look at him when she did so. “Say, why don’t we let the boys work this out for themselves outside? It sounds like they’re getting along just fine now, and we’ll be right here if they need us. Plus, you and me? We’ve got a <i>lot</i> of <i>entirely</i> unrelated things we can talk about.”</p><p>She winked at all three boys, but they looked to Gideon for an answer.</p><p>“Well...I suppose,” he said, after mulling it over. “But mark my words Stanford and Stanley - if you <i>ever</i> cross me or my family ever again <i>I will end you boys</i>, do you hear me?”</p><p>Having the fear of God put into them was enough for them both to stammer in the affirmative, and Gideon changed his tune abruptly.</p><p>“Oh, that’s just swell! Now you boys run along and play outside while me and your Great Aunt have a little ol’ chat!”</p><p>The boys did not have to be told twice. All three of them got up and sprinted for the door the moment they could. All three of them were out of breath from the stress of it all, even though “outside” was a whole six foot sprint.</p><p>“I-- I’m real sorry, fellas,” Buddy said. “I can’t do much about Dad. I-I came home the other night and he saw I was a little skittish and he interrogated me about it until I told him what happened!”</p><p>“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Stan said, placing a hand on Buddy’s shoulder. “We shouldn’t have hassled you so much. And before Ford corrects me, I mean I shouldn’t’ve.”</p><p>“And...I think we’re uniquely qualified to understand your dilemma,” Ford said hesitantly. “We can’t do very much about our father either.”</p><p>“Buddy. <i>Buddy.</i>” Stan turned him and looked him in the eye, deeply haunted by what they all just experienced. “Your Pa is somethin’ else.”</p><p>“I don’t want to be rude, but...is he an actual demon?” Ford asked. “I’ve been learning about the supernatural of Gravity Falls recently and it seems like a strong possibility.”</p><p>“No! Or, uh. I don’t think so?” Buddy was a little unsure now.</p><p>“Well, either way. If you ever need to get away from that whole mess--” Stan gestured at the Gleeful home. “--you can always come hang out with us at the Mystery Shack!”</p><p>“...What about your Dad?”</p><p>“Oh, he isn’t here,” Ford clarified. “We’re spending the summer with our Grauntie Mabel, and she’s really nice!”</p><p>“Yep! So you don’t have to worry about our mess, aside from any literal messes we make!” Stan grinned.</p><p>“...Thanks,” Buddy said. “I-I don’t know if I’ll get to take you up on it, but. Thanks.”</p><p>“No sweat, pal. We’ve got your back.”</p><p>“Definitely.”</p><p>The three of them spent the next hour running around the Gleeful’s front yard running around and digging in the least conspicuous parts of the lawn. The boys were playing a very intense game of freeze tag that involved Stan yelling dramatically from his frozen spot on the ground about his untimely demise when Mabel finally left the house.</p><p>“Don’t be a stranger now!” Gideon called sweetly after her. “And Buddy? Buddy boy, it’s time to come inside and help your Daddy with dinner!”</p><p>To their credit, Stan and Ford tried very hard not to laugh at Gideon referring to himself as “Daddy”. </p><p>“Well, I better get going,” Buddy said. “...See you fellas around?”</p><p>“You got it!” Stan said, finger-gunning at him.</p><p>“Definitely come to the Mystery Shack sometime!” Ford added.</p><p>Everyone waved their goodbyes and Mabel, who was unable to take much more of this, gently shoved the boys over to the El Diablo and sped back to the Shack as fast as she could.</p><p>“Well, I just lost about ten years of my life,” Mabel said cheerfully. “I hope you boys learned your lesson about bullying.”</p><p>“Yeah, don’t boss people around or you’ll have to meet their crazy dad and share all of your personal problems with each other,” Stan said.</p><p>“Exactly!” </p><p>And the three of them had a good laugh about it, as Gideon watched them drive away through the blinds.</p><p>“Boy oh boy, I can’t <i>stand</i> that Pines family...”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Lv wklv wkh odvw zh'oo vhh ri olo ro' kh?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. FOR YEARS SHE TRAVERSED HER p a s t</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Stan and Ford go looking for Journal 1 and bring along Soos and Fiddleford for backup. It doesn't go as planned.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello again everyone! No flashback in this chapter, but you get an extra side of mysteries to make up for it! The ball's really going to start rolling now, so have fun with that! Thank you again for all of your comments, kudos, and hits! I can't wait to see theories on what people think might be going on here.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So, I think I have it narrowed down…”</p><p>Ford and Stan were up in their room with a tourist map of Gravity Falls spread out on the floor and a plate of cookies Grauntie Mabel baked for them. Shanklin was nearby, and Stan kept him away from the cookies by throwing him the occasional piece of jerky. Ford had Journal 2 held open to a set of pages marked “Possible Hiding Places”.</p><p>“It looks like the Author made a rudimentary topographical map of the area,” Ford continued. “Grauntie Mabel only had car maps in the shop, but using the Author’s approximate coordinates and the location of the mountains we can transpose his map onto something a little easier to read.”</p><p>Stan nodded with an entire cookie half-shoved in his mouth, and bit it in two to say something.</p><p>“What about all these weird circles?”</p><p>“Well, these larger ones line up to mountains and hills in the area,” Ford explained. “The smaller ones though, I believe are meant to be markers of the approximate locations, since they appear in areas without any raised land at all. Either there are some extremely tall towers of land that we somehow managed not to notice in three weeks…”</p><p>“--Or it’s an X marks the spot!” Stan finished.</p><p>“Yes, exactly! Though, because they’re hidden on a topographical map, I think it’s reasonable to believe that the circles might still represent altitude. For example, this one with the four little circles that sorts sort of like a target? That might be one where the hiding place is somewhere up several feet high.”</p><p>“Never heard of a treasure map like that,” Stan pointed out. “Usually you have to dig stuff up.”</p><p>“Well--” Ford hesitated, and looked a little embarrassed. “I don’t know. It’s what I would do, if I was hiding something on a topographical map and didn’t want someone to find it...”</p><p>“Hey, come on. You know you’re prolly right - you’re right about everything!” Still, there was something that seemed strange about it, and Stan scratched his chin. “What I don’t get is how the guy could hide somethin’ up high without anyone seeing it. Plus, Grauntie Mabel and Grunkle Dipper went looking for it when they were kids too, right? How do you hide something four circles high for <i>that long</i> without it falling to the ground?”</p><p>“I suppose it could have fallen, and it could be anywhere now...but, on the other hand, Buddy dug this one up somewhere over here--” Ford pointed to a set of circles near the elementary school. “Maybe they’re meant to represent either height <i>or</i> depth, though I don’t know why he wouldn’t have used depression markers for it...”</p><p>“Maybe because he wasn’t depressed!”</p><p>The terrible joke got a flat look from Ford for a beat before he caved and chuckled.</p><p>“No, no, like markers that mean a hole instead of a peak - you would see it on a topographical map of a volcano, for example. They look like this.”</p><p>Since it was already discovered and changes would not compromise the data, Ford leaned over and drew little lines on the circles over the playground that made it look almost like a round zipper.</p><p>“Huh. Maybe he really didn’t want anyone finding these things.”</p><p>“But why would the greatest scientific mind of our time want to <i>hide</i> his work, Stanley? These findings are brilliant! Some of these could change the entire field of science as we know it!”</p><p>It was Stan’s turn to deadpan.</p><p>“You know the third one reads more like a diary, right?”</p><p>“It is a <i>scientific journal!</i>”</p><p>“Whatever,” Stan shrugged and took another cookie. “Guess there’s only one way to find out if these are up or down, right?”</p><p>“The closest one seems to be right near the Shack, right here somewhere.” Ford pointed on the map.</p><p>“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go!” Stan started to stand up, but Ford didn’t.</p><p>“Well. Stanley, I was wondering...”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Do you--” Ford lost his nerve for a moment, and Stan tilted his head. “...Do you care if I invite someone to come with us?”</p><p>“Oh. Uh…” Stan wasn’t expecting that, but he couldn’t think of any particularly good reason to say no. “Sure? The more the merrier, I guess. Who did you wanna bring?”</p><p>“Well...I thought Fiddleford might be able to give an interesting perspective on it. A-As a scientist, I mean.”</p><p>“He’s still only fourteen, Sixer.” Stan rolled his eyes. “Anyway, If you get to invite somebody to know about all the journal stuff, then I do too.”</p><p>Ford couldn’t say he was inherently opposed to that. “Who are you going to ask?”</p><p>“It’s a secret,” Stan winked.</p><p>“...You don’t actually know, do you?”</p><p>Instead of answering, Stan gave Ford a playful shove.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>Asking Fiddleford went over a lot better than Ford imagined it would. He actually agreed readily for just the pursuit of science, especially after Ford showed him some of the blueprints in Journal 2.</p><p>“This could be an incredible breakthrough!” Fiddleford said, as he ran a finger over the design. “You said the third journal connects to this one?”</p><p>“It appears to,” Ford confirmed. “And there’s at least one more that connects them in a triangle, which we have reason to believe is Journal 1. We’re not sure if there are more beyond that, given that the third ends rather suddenly, but-- but it’s possible? The Author had many hiding places all across Gravity Falls.”</p><p>It felt like he had indulged in excited babbling, but to Ford’s surprise his new friend was deeply invested.</p><p>“It sounds feasible, I reckon! I’d love to see what something like that builds, maybe even build it myself - i-if you’d. I mean. If you’ll have me on the project, that is?”</p><p>Fiddleford offered a hand to shake, and Ford stared. It took every ounce of bravery he had to shake his hand in return and firmly smile. If he noticed Ford's extra finger, he did not say so. He did not recoil.</p><p>This is how the two of them wound up waiting for Stan alone, on a log just on the edge of the Mystery Shack’s property.</p><p>“Where is he?” Ford was pretty sure he might combust if he had to wait any longer to get started, for more than one reason. “I told him when to meet us here, didn’t I?”</p><p>“Maybe he’s just running a little late?” Fiddleford offered. It felt a little useless though - he didn’t know either of them well enough to truly tell.</p><p>“Well...we’re here. <i>Alone</i>,” Ford said, with a regrettable amount of emphasis. He laced his fingers together and tapped his thumbs, unsure what to do with that information.</p><p>“We could get started? As long as we don’t go anywhere, there shouldn’t be any harm in that.” Fiddleford pushed himself off the log, and offered a hand to Ford.</p><p>This time though, Ford didn’t take it. Once was enough for the day.</p><p>“I suppose so…”</p><p>The search felt a little ridiculous somehow. They knew it was approximately in that area, and that the hiding place was either above or below them, but there didn’t seem to be anything hidden obviously in the trees.</p><p>“According to Journal 3,” Ford said, flipping through the pages, “there may be a security system hidden nearby, in the trunk of a tree. I’m not entirely sure what it does though? It could be capable of sounding an alarm if we activate it incorrectly.”</p><p>Fiddleford nodded. “Then one of these here trees is a fake. Oughta be simple enough to figure that one out!”</p><p>He mimed a knocked motion with his hand and Ford grinned. “You’re a genius! The tree would be hollow!”</p><p>Things went much faster once they narrowed it down to knocking on trees, though it did begin to hurt their hands. They had almost tried every tree in the clearing when Stan finally rounded a corner with Soos not far behind him.</p><p>“Sorry dudes!” Soos said, after catching his breath. “My shift at the Mystery Shack ran late! That one guy just would <i>not</i> buy a shirt!”</p><p>“You brought <i>Soos?</i>” Ford turned to Stan, who shrugged.</p><p>“He’s tall! And he knows the area pretty good,” Stan said, dropping his backpack at his feet. “You oughta hear his stories about the werewolf mailman!”</p><p>“...I do want to hear about that,” Ford conceded. “But-- Stanley, I thought you didn’t want Grauntie Mabel to know?”</p><p>“Oh, don’t worry about that, dawg,” Soos chimed in. “I can keep a secret for you guys, even if it means keeping it from Ms. Pines. She’s been real busy lately anyway, coming up with more attractions for the Shack. That's why my shifts have been longer!” </p><p>“If you’re really sure…” Ford seemed to be asking Stan more than Soos.</p><p>“Aw, c’mon Ford! Look at this guy!” Stan gestured wide at Soos, as though presenting him. “This is a guy we can trust with our lives, and my gut’s never been wrong about anything ever!”</p><p>“I would give my life for you dudes.”</p><p>“Dial it back a bit, Soos.”</p><p>“I would do anything for you dudes.”</p><p>Stan beamed, and Ford sighed. Even if he argued it, he wasn’t going to win. When it came to people skills, Ford never won arguments against Stan.</p><p>“Well, we did get started without you,” Ford pushed up his glasses and tried to sound professional. “We have reason to believe one of these trees isn’t real, and that it might--”</p><p>“Stanford, I got it!”</p><p>Ford whipped around, and all three of them ran to Fiddleford, who had continued knocking on trees while they were talking.</p><p>“Listen--” Everyone leaned in closely as Fiddleford hit the trunk, which made a loud metal echo.</p><p>“Looks like we got here just in time!” Stan said. “Open her up!”</p><p>“Hold on,” Ford put out a hand to stop anyone from moving forward. “Look more closely.”</p><p>“Woah, a metal tree,” Soos said in awe. “Wait, what are we looking at about it?”</p><p>“Oh!” Stan didn’t always catch on to these things, but this wasn’t a matter of science. “Look, the rest of it’s dusty except this panel. Did you do that, Fiddlesticks?”</p><p>“No, I only knocked,” he said.</p><p>“Then someone’s been here recently,” Ford concluded. “Someone other than us. ...We should be careful.”</p><p>As far as they could tell, no one was in the near vicinity, so Fiddleford carefully opened the panel and there was a small machine with levers inside of the compartment. Ford was stunned.</p><p>“It-- It’s just like the journal! Look!”</p><p>He passed the journal to Fiddleford, who only needed to look for a moment before he knew which levers to flip. There was a mechanical whirring behind them, and a hatch opened in the ground...an empty hatch.</p><p>“I was afraid that might happen,” Ford sighed. “Someone got here before us.”</p><p>“What?! There’s gotta be something else to it,” Stan pushed past everyone and started to lean into the hole. “Maybe there’s some kind of secret compartment.” </p><p>“Let me take a look at the map - it might indicate if it should be deeper,” Ford said.</p><p>“Woah, like a treasure map?” Soos asked.</p><p>The two of them turned away to pour over the unfolded map of the town, but Stan wasn’t listening. Sure they could look at a map, or they could just mess around with the hole and see if anything happened, and that seemed like a much quicker plan. There didn’t seem to be any loose panels or hidden compartments from what he could tell, but then he got a terrible idea.</p><p>“Hey, McGucket! Spot me!”</p><p>“What? <i>Why?</i>”</p><p>“‘Cause I’m gonna step on this thing and try to kick open the bottom,” Stan explained, as though it should be obvious. "There might be a secret drawer under it or something."</p><p>Fiddleford seemed uncertain, but Ford and Soos were distracted and it left him as the only option. So, he moved a little closer to the hatch, and even helped Stan step down inside it.</p><p>Unfortunately, the bottom panel did not hold his full weight at all. Stan barely had one foot flat on the metal before the entire thing buckled and he was free-falling. Fiddleford was almost quick enough, and grabbed hold of Stan’s arm, but Stan was already falling so fast that he just tumbled down with him into a black abyss.</p><p><br/>
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<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>It was at least a minute before they hit the ground, accompanied by a loud crack and faint shouting above them. Stan laid there for a second, to make absolutely sure he hadn’t died or anything, before he pushed himself up on his palms. </p><p>“Ugh...Fidds, you alright?” </p><p>At first, Fiddleford didn’t answer. Stan heard movement in the dark though, and squinted to try and adjust his eyes.</p><p>“I…” There was a loud hiss. “I-I banged up my arm real good.”</p><p>Stan fumbled until he was a little closer, so he could help get Fiddleford to his feet. After determining Fiddleford could definitely walk, they moved over to the only bit of light - the sunshine coming in from the hole in the ceiling.</p><p>“Lemme see?”</p><p>Fiddleford was too squeamish to look, but he gingerly held out his right arm. Stan winced in sympathy.</p><p>“Yeah, uh. You need a doctor, buddy,” Stan said. “I don’t know anything about medicine but it’s all purple and messed up.”</p><p>“Gee, thanks for the helpful assessment,” Fiddleford rolled his eyes and took his arm back, keeping his wrist close to his chest. “Where <i>are</i> we?”</p><p>“Some kinda...secret room, I guess?”</p><p>They tried to look around, but most of what they saw was dirt. Before any sort of panic could set in, they heard the yelling again.</p><p>“STANLEY? FIDDLEFORD? CAN YOU HEAR ME?”</p><p>“FORD?” Stan called back.</p><p>“STAN! ARE YOU GUYS OKAY?”</p><p>“I’M GOOD, BUT FIDDLESTICKS BROKE SOMETHING.”</p><p>“I-I’m here!” Fiddleford joined in. “But, I don’t think I can--”</p><p>“You have to shout!” Stan interrupted, while Ford yelled, “WHAT?”</p><p>“I...I DON’T THINK I CAN CLIMB BACK OUT. WE SHOULD PROBABLY CALL 911?”</p><p>“Pfft. You and your fancy ambulance money,” Stan rolled his eyes before shouting back up. “YOU GUYS GOT A FLASHLIGHT UP THERE? WE CAN’T SEE!”</p><p>“OH! UM, RIGHT. HOLD ON A SEC.”</p><p>Ford disappeared for a second, and when he returned he dropped his flashlight down the hole. Stan reached as best as he could, but it missed his fingers by almost a foot and shattered on the ground.</p><p>“UH. GOOD TRY, SIXER! GOT ANOTHER ONE?”</p><p>“HANG ON DUDE, I GOT THIS--” </p><p>After another minute, Soos tossed Stan’s backpack down the hole. Stan still missed the catch, but the bag cushioned the flashlight inside from the fall.</p><p>“SOOS, I’M GONNA TELL GRAUNTIE MABEL TO PROMOTE YOU!”</p><p>“<i>YES!</i>”</p><p>It was a lot easier to tell where they were with a flashlight on. Stan shined it around them in a wide circle.</p><p>“IT-- IT LOOKS LIKE SOME SORTA ANIMAL DEN.” It left Fiddleford feeling uneasy.</p><p>“YEAH, SOMETHING DUG A TUNNEL DOWN HERE,” Stan yelled. “WE’RE GONNA TRY AND FOLLOW IT OUT.”</p><p>“OKAY! WE’LL LOOK FOR AN ENTRANCE,” Ford yelled back. “THERE MUST BE ONE NEARBY.”</p><p>“YEAH, DON’T WORRY! WE’LL GET YOU GUYS OUTTA THERE IN NO TIME!” And with that, Soos and Ford were gone.</p><p>“We’re going to <i>what?</i>” Fiddleford shrieked at Stan. “If we just called for help, someone could just lift us out of that hole up there and we’d be outta here in no time!”</p><p>“We don’t need any help!” Stan said. “If something got in here to make this hole, it had to get in some other way, right? Plus if anything was in here we probably scared it off when we fell.”</p><p>“<i>Probably?!</i>”</p><p>“Yeah, probably!” Stan snapped. “Look, I’m not gonna wait around here and get in trouble for stepping in weird holes! Now come on!”</p><p>He slung the backpack on his shoulders and stormed off towards the only way out of the animal den. Fiddleford tentatively followed, though he had to crouch a little at first before the path opened up again. Things were quiet between them for a long and heavy while, leaving the air so thick it could be cut with a knife.</p><p>Finally, it was Fiddleford who broke the tension.</p><p>“...Why would you get in trouble for that?”</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“For stepping in a hole,” Fiddleford clarified. “You said that if we waited back there...but, it was an accident, right? You didn’t mean to send us hurtling to the center of the Earth. So...why would you get in trouble for that?”</p><p>Stan didn’t answer. He just kept walking, looking directly at the path the flashlight revealed at his feet.</p><p>“...Stanley?”</p><p>“Just forget it,” he mumbled. “It doesn’t matter if it was an accident. It was dumb and it got you hurt and I shouldn’t have done it. End of story.”</p><p>“What are you talking about? Of course it matters! And sure, it might not have been the best idea, but I could’ve said no too. You’re acting like your folks would be mad about having to bail you out at all.” </p><p>“Well, what about you?” Stan turned it around on him. “Isn’t your dad going to be pissed off you broke your wrist?”</p><p>“Why would he be mad at me for <i>getting hurt?</i>” Fiddleford asked. “Would <i>yours</i> be?”</p><p>At some point they had stopped walking. Stan’s blood ran cold.</p><p>“...Never mind,” Stan said. “Let’s just get going. It looks like it’s getting wider up here.”</p><p>“Stanley--”</p><p>“And I think it’s starting to slope up! Maybe you won’t have to climb at all”</p><p>“Stanley Pines, answer the question!” Fiddleford yelled, sterner than Stan had ever seen him. “You-- you’re worrying me. Parents shouldn’t be angry about that sort of thing, and you and Ford shouldn’t have to--”</p><p>“No! I’m not gonna talk to you about this!” Stan shouted back. “I barely even <i>know</i> you and you’re lecturing me on what parents should and shouldn’t do? Well, good for you that your life’s just peachy! Aren’t you supposed to be some kinda genius like Ford? <b><i>Take a freaking hint</i></b>, McGucket!”</p><p>Fiddleford recoiled. He allowed Stan to walk several feet ahead of him before he started to follow again. This time, he didn’t push the matter.</p><p>A few minutes later, the tunnel opened out into a laboratory, with a couple of fluorescent lights hanging from the ceiling. Stan shut off the flashlight and they both looked around in awe.</p><p>“What happened to this place…?”</p><p>There was a lot to take in. The dark blood stains on the ground. The broken equipment scattered everywhere. The tubes that seemed like something right out of a science fiction movie.</p><p>Fiddleford gripped Stan’s shoulder with his good hand so tight that he thought it might pop out of the socket.</p><p>“Stanley. Stanley, <i>look</i>.”</p><p>Following Fiddleford’s gaze, Stan looked toward the cryogenic tubes, to the one that was on, and it took him a minute to register exactly what he was seeing.</p><p>“...Oh my god, is that a <i>kid</i> in there?”</p><p>“W-We have to get him out!” Fiddleford stammered. “Who knows how long he’s been trapped in cryostasis?”</p><p>Stan ran right up to the tube, looking for some sort of switch to turn it off or let him out, but admittedly he had no idea what he was looking for or what to do. The kid seemed about his age, and was frozen in a terrified pose - as though he went out screaming for his life.</p><p>Suddenly the tube opened and let out a blast of cold air and Stan staggered back. Behind him, Fiddleford had found his way to the control room and played with the console until he found the right combination of buttons. </p><p>The color slowly came back to the boy’s face until eventually he took a sharp gasp and staggered forward. Stan caught him by the shoulders.</p><p>“Hey, easy. I got you.”</p><p>“I-- what? Who are you? How did I…?”</p><p>“You were frozen in that tubey thing over there,” Stan explained. “But you’re safe now!”</p><p>“I...that’s right,” he said, slowly. “I was fighting the Shape Shifter. He must have shoved me in there so he could escape.” </p><p>“Woah, a Shape Shifter? I found the Jersey Devil once with my brother!”</p><p>“Really?” That caught the boy's attention. “I’d love to see one someday!”</p><p>“Seriously though, you alright? You seem kinda out of it,” Stan didn’t let go of his shoulders. “What’s your name?”</p><p>The boy hesitated, as though he had to think it over. “...Dipper.” </p><p>Maybe it was the cold from the cryogenic tube permeating the room, but Stan was sure he felt the temperature drop. That was all it took to make Stan release him.</p><p>“Wait. ...Wait, that’s my Great Uncle’s name.” He took a large step backwards, to put some distance between them.</p><p>“Great <i>Uncle?</i>” Dipper started to hyperventilate. “Oh my god. How long was I in there?!”</p><p>“No. No, Grauntie Mabel said he died before we were born. That can’t be right.” The gears were turning in Stan’s head, but they kept getting stuck on details.</p><p>“Oh my gosh. Don’t you see?!” Dipper took a frantic step forward. “The Shape Shifter must have gotten outside! It must have stolen my life and tricked my sister - it fooled the whole world into thinking it was me!”</p><p>“That’s...convenient,” Stan said, taking another step back to match.</p><p>Dipper stared at Stan, as some wheels of his own began to turn. His eyes flickered down to Stan’s hands. When he blinked, his eyelids closed vertically.</p><p>“...What did you say your name was?”</p><p>“Stanley! Is he alright?”</p><p>Fiddleford appeared in the doorway, and as soon as Dipper spotted him he reeled back and hissed like an animal, and Stan skittered back further away from him.</p><p>“<i><b>You!</b></i>”</p><p>“M-Me?!”</p><p>“McGucket! We gotta get him back in that tube thing before--”</p><p>But it was too late. “Dipper” was morphing, and changing and soon a second Fiddleford was standing before them - one a little taller and older, wearing a lab coat. There was an ominous tint to his glasses.</p><p>“I never forget a face,” it said, in a perfect impression of McGucket’s accent. “Especially with a nose like this one.”</p><p>Stan and Fiddleford stared open-mouthed at the man before them, still processing that he was a shape shifting monster that someone trapped behind glass.</p><p>“Hm...looks like I need to make some <i>recalculations</i>,” it said, before shifting into a perfect copy of Fiddleford as he was in the current moment - teenage, though not nearly as terrified as the real one. “You humans age so strangely. Maybe <i>you</i> ought to be the experiment!”</p><p>“You...what <i>are</i> you?” Fiddleford backed up so far that he hit the nearest wall.</p><p>“You <b>know</b> what I am!” the Shape Shifter yelled, pounding its fist - <i>Fiddleford’s</i> fist - into the nearest piece of glass. “You’re the one who <i>insisted</i> I be put here, where you could forget all about me! You wanted to keep me here to test these chambers like some lab rat!”</p><p>Fiddleford flinched, but that only made the Shape Shifter move closer, ignoring the unnatural blood dripping from its wound.</p><p>“I’m going to make sure you <i>never</i> forget me again,” it growled.</p><p>“Hey! Leave him alone!”</p><p>The Shape Shifter turned, and Stan was brandishing an axe like a baseball bat.</p><p>“I mean it, creep! Get AWAY from him!”</p><p>“Or what?” it asked, with a tilt of Fiddleford’s head. “You’re going to <i>do</i> something about it? It might be the first time you’ve ever done anything!”</p><p>“Quit it with that cryptic bullshit!” Stan shouted, and then ran right at the Shape Shifter, axe raised. </p><p>He swung hard, but the Shape Shifter was faster - the axe was lodged deep in a pipe, and Stan couldn’t pull it out, even when he put his foot up for leverage. Behind him, he heard the creature shift again.</p><p>“Yeah, that’s about what I expected,” it said, circling back around to where Stan could see. The new form was unfamiliar - a long haired guy who just filthy from head to toe, in a hoodie looked like it needed to be washed years ago. Its voice was deep and gravely, like every cigar smoker his dad had ever played poker with.</p><p>“Last time I saw you, you thought I wouldn’t notice you were missing a couple little somethings here and there.”</p><p>The Shape Shifter held up its hands and when it changed this time the shift was much more subtle. A extra finger on each hand. Glasses. A trench coat and professional clothing, though very disheveled. A mask to conceal some of his face. A crazed look in his eyes. </p><p>Stan let go of the axe and stared.</p><p>“<span class="small">...Ford?</span>”</p><p>“Not quite.” It grinned and revealed too many sets of sharp teeth, and Stan screamed and stumbled backwards.</p><p>“That’s more like it!” In a blink, the Shape Shifter was in a new form - Stan Pines holding an axe. However, it could not morph into two separate objects, so the axe was grotesquely fused into the palm of his hand.</p><p>“Thanks for the new weapon, nerd.”</p><p>It swung hard. Stan rolled out of the way, but not before the Shape Shifter sliced a hole in his shirt, revealing the blue amulet underneath. Frantically, he looked around for another weapon. A pipe? A board? Even a good rock would do, but there was no time to stop and think with the Shape Shifter coming at him.</p><p>“Just die already!” it yelled. “Might as well have a body to put in that empty grave!”</p><p>“What does that even mean?!” </p><p>Maybe it meant nothing but a distraction. This time the Shape Shifter swung close enough to cut the amulet’s chain, though Stan pulled back before the axe could get buried in his chest. He put his hands out and caught his treasure before it could hit the ground.</p><p>The moment the amulet hit Stan’s palms, a bright blue light shot out of it. <i>Energy</i> was coming out of it, enveloping him. He could feel every hair on his arms stand on end and everything felt lighter. He was rising, and soon hovered several feet off the ground. </p><p>The Shape Shifter was startled right out of its Stan form, and it switched to something bigger and more inhuman - some sort of pale goopy monster with large pink eyes and a misformed arm. It transformed again and again, into a number of creatures Stan had seen in Journal 3, unable to decide which one would help in this situation.</p><p>None of them mattered. It took Stan no time at all to realize what he could do, and soon the Shape Shifter was enveloped in that same blue light. It frantically switched and switched and switched and roared at the top of its lungs, but Stan was focused on forcing it back into the cryogenic tube.</p><p>“You can’t hold me there forever!” it yelled in three different voices at once.  </p><p>“Don’t have to!” Stan shouted back.</p><p>The moment the Shape Shifter was inside the tube, the glass closed and the freezing process began. Stan looked, expecting to see Fiddleford at the console again...but, it was Ford there, with Soos by his side. Fiddleford was curled into a ball on the ground, rocking back and forth.</p><p>Stan lowered himself to the ground, but before he could pocket the amulet Ford rushed into the room and hugged him tight.</p><p>“Stanley! What was that thing? How did you <i>do</i> that?!”</p><p>He grinned and held up the amulet. But, he couldn’t hold the good cheer long. He quietly gestured over to Fiddleford.</p><p>“Later,” Stan said. “We gotta get him out of here.”</p><p>Ford had been so excited about the magic that it hadn’t registered that Fiddleford wouldn’t also be eager to hear about it. He turned and gasped when he saw his friend broken on the floor. Soos had already gotten there before either of them could. He’d found a lab coat on the way, but he took it off and put it over Fiddleford’s shoulders like a shock blanket.</p><p>“There you go,” he said. “Better, dude?”</p><p>Fiddleford nodded numbly. He was trembling.</p><p>“Hey-- Hey Fidds. Can you hear me?” Stan waved a hand in front of Fiddleford’s eyes, and it startled him so bad he yelled. Ford hit Stan in the arm and tried a bit more gently.</p><p>“Fiddleford, I-- I don’t know what happened, but it’s over now. We’re going to go home. Alright?” Fiddleford didn’t answer. “...Can you stand?”</p><p>He remained silent. With a little help from everyone though, Fiddleford was able to rise to his feet. A low cackle began behind them, and they all turned to stare at the tube, as the Shape Shifter slowly hit the glass.</p><p>“Don’t think you’ve seen the last of me,” it said. “I’ll get out again, and when I do the six-fingered nerd that put me here is the first one to go!”</p><p>A bolt of panic hit Ford until he remembered the journals. “Wait-- the other six-fingered person? The Author?”</p><p>The Shape Shifter just laughed, and laughed. As it did, it shifted into the six-fingered man that had fought Stanley - an absolute madman cackling to the sky.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>They did not waste any time exiting the lab. Ford had initially been excited to show them the strange and mysterious bunker that presumably belonged to the Author of the Journals. However, the mood was heavy now. It was evident that they needed to remove Fiddleford from the situation as soon as possible. He had barely spoken since they left the cryogenic lab, just focused on the ground below his feet.</p><p>His legs hadn’t been hurt, but Stan still hung back to support him and help him along. Ford led the way, and Soos wasn’t far behind them.</p><p>“Hey. ...Hey, Fidds,” Stan said, as quietly as he could. “...I just. I wanted to say sorry about before.”</p><p>Fiddleford sighed.</p><p>“No...you were right,” he said. “I should just forget it.”</p><p>By the time they reached the top of the stairs and closed the secret entrance, the sky was a deep blue and stars were just starting to dot the sky.</p><p>“Fiddleford--” Ford started. “I. I’m sorry. This isn’t how I wanted today to go.”</p><p>“...You wanted to find the other journal,” Fiddleford said, numbly. “The one with the third piece of circuitry.”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>It was that confirmation alone that burned a fire in Fiddleford - for the first time since they had left the laboratory, a look of true fear crossed his face.</p><p>“Those books are dangerous, Stanford. Whatever that guy was doing, whatever monsters he was breeding or doomsday devices he was building, I don’t want any part of it! And if you’re smart you’ll get rid of those journals before they get rid’ve you someday!”</p><p>“Fiddleford, I-- but the Author--!”</p><p>“This Author of yours almost got me <i>killed</i> today!” he yelled.</p><p>Ford’s shoulders slumped. </p><p>“I understand,” Ford said. “...But, I’m sorry. I have one more thing to ask of you. If I could ask anyone else, I promise I would, but. ...You're the only person I know with the engineering knowledge to investigate this.”</p><p>Soos held something out to Ford, who held it out to Fiddleford. At a glance it looked like a briefcase, but when popped open it revealed a rudimentary laptop. Fiddleford stared at the label and paled. </p><p>Property of F.</p><p>"Please at least consider it?" Ford asked.</p><p>Fiddleford's good hand shook when he reached for the handle. He made no promises.</p><p>“...C-Can. Can someone take me home?” he asked, his voice breaking.</p><p>“Are you sure you don’t wanna go to like, a hospital?” Soos asked. “Your wrist’s looking pretty bad.”</p><p>“I want to go home,” he said. Then, distantly, he repeated himself. “Can someone...can someone take me home? Please?”</p><p>“...Sure, Fiddleford.” Stan put a hand on his shoulder, as did Ford. “We’ll get you home.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>
  <i>Li wkdw'v qrw Glsshu, wkhq zkhuh lv kh?<br/>
Wub orrnlqj xs dqg brx pljkw vhh</i>
</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. UNTIL ONE FATEFUL DAY a day that resulted in</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Stan and Ford go camping, and Mabel doesn't go anywhere - no matter how hard she tries.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Welcome to chapter 6! Thank you for all of the kudos and comments, and even every individual hit! Your theories are all extremely good and I've been having a blast reading all of them. Thank you for your patience with this chapter! It will probably raise more questions than it answers, but that's what a good mystery's for, right? Keep those theories coming! ♥</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>More than a week later, Stan and Ford still hadn’t heard from Fiddleford.</p><p>Discomfort hung in the air and only grew heavier as time dragged on. Both of the boys felt guilty for various things they did, or didn’t do, and it began to creep into every little thing.</p><p>“You couldn’t’ve known that was gonna happen, Sixer,” Stan said, when he found Ford reading the same couple pages of Journal 3 over and over again, unable to truly focus. “There was no way you could’ve.”</p><p>“It wasn’t on purpose,” Ford assured Stan, when he caught him using the magic amulet to pitch pine cones as hard as he could at trees. “Stanley, you never would have hurt him on purpose.”</p><p>But trying to convince each other was much easier than convincing themselves, so the gloom remained. Even Mabel was starting to notice. The two of them had ditched their shift at the Mystery Shack, which meant Mabel was on counter duty.</p><p>“I wonder what’s got my little beans so baked?” she sighed, leaning heavily on her palm.</p><p>“It’s probably ‘cause their friend Fiddleford broke his wrist the last time they hung out and now he’s like, avoiding them and junk?” Soos said, looking up from where he was sweeping. “...Not that I know anything about it, haha.”</p><p>“Such a mystery…” Mabel chewed on a stray bit of gray hair that had fallen out of her bun. “I just want them to have fun this summer! How are they going to do that if they’re a couple of depressed little danishes?”</p><p>“I thought they were beans? Though, come to think of it you’ve called them marshmallows and cookies and pumpkins...”</p><p>“They’re Danish beans right now, Soos, keep up.” </p><p>Soos gave her a bit of a look, but shrugged and went back to sweeping. Mabel drummed her fingers on the counter. “There has to be <i>something</i> I can do to cheer them up…”</p><p>“Say, uh. Ms. Pines?” Soos interrupted. “Can I ask you something? It’s not totally related but...something’s been kind of weirding me out lately.”</p><p>“Sure, Soos! Ask me anything!” She perked right up to give him her undivided attention.</p><p>“Well...I was just thinking. There haven’t been like, any tours this week? At all?” He wrung his hands around the handle of the broom anxiously. “And we’ve barely had any customers this summer, which is pretty weird for the Shack. ...Are we alright? ‘Cause there’s no way we’re making a profit like this, right Ms. Pines?”</p><p>He was right. Even now, the gift shop was empty. Mabel had done a couple of tours since Stan and Ford had arrived, but most of the time the place was empty and she was busying herself with other things, like throwing birthday parties or melting down evil wax figures before they could cause trouble.</p><p>She frowned, and opened the cash register. It only held a measly twenty dollars, and they were well into the afternoon shift.</p><p>“I guess we could try to drum up more customers.” For some reason, she didn’t sound terribly enthused by the idea. So instead, she tossed it to her handyman. “Soos! What’s the least expensive idea you’ve got?”</p><p>“Wha-- <i>me?</i>” Soos gaped. “Really?”</p><p>“Sure! I know you’ve got good ideas up in that noggin of yours,” she said, tapping her temple. “That’s why I hired you!”</p><p>“I’m gonna think up something really great, Ms. Pines - something that’ll bring a ton of customers in, I promise!” The wheels were already turning in his head. He had never been given so much creative control before.</p><p>“Great! In fact, let’s close up for the day and you can get a head start on that.” She locked the cash register. “Right now it’s costing us more money to be open anyway.”</p><p>“I won’t let you down, Ms. Pines!” </p><p>Soos saluted, and then sprinted out the door to go brainstorm, dropping the broom in the process. Stan and Ford nearly collided with him on their way inside, and stared after him for a second as he got in his truck.</p><p>“Why’s Soos going home?” Stan asked. “Are you <i>seriously</i> closing early again?”</p><p>“Don’t think about it too hard, my little Danish beans,” she said. “What, did you want to come back and work your actual shifts?”</p><p>“...What is a Danish bean supposed to be?” Ford asked, but no one answered him.</p><p>“Nope!” Stan said cheerfully. “We wanted to ask you somethin’.”</p><p>“Ha, so many questions from everybody today!” Mabel laughed nervously. “But uh, sure! What’s up, kiddos?”</p><p>“We were thinking about going camping, if that’s okay?” Ford was more hesitant than Stan about it, still clearly melancholy.</p><p>Stan, meanwhile, was doing a much better job of faking it. “Yeah! Just for a night or two. We wanna go check something out in the woods and it’s kind of a long trek for a day trip.”</p><p>“I don’t know, kids…” Mabel looked at the rest of the shop. “Closing early today is one thing, but I do kind of have to put food on the table.”</p><p>Ford and Stan exchanged a look, and Stan broke the uncomfortable news.</p><p>“Well. First of all, this definitely ain’t the first time you’ve closed early,” he pointed out. “But that’s okay because point two - you’re not invited.”</p><p>“What?!”</p><p>“We promise we’ll be careful!” Ford insisted, tagging in after Stan was too blunt. “We want to retrace the Author’s steps on a camping trip he took with his assistant. Maybe if we do that, we can learn more about who he was, and why he disappeared.”</p><p>“They went to a <i>spaceship wreck</i>,” Stan added. “Plus, we could use a chance to get away from it all, you know?”</p><p>“You’re supposed to be getting away from it all <i>here</i>, with your Grauntie Mabel!” She twisted a finger into her cheek, trying to emphasize her dimples, even though that hadn’t worked on anyone since her thirties.</p><p>“It’ll be <i>two days</i>, Grauntie Mabel. And the Author extensively detailed the route in the sec-- i-in his Journal, so! We won’t get lost or anything.”</p><p>“We’re experienced campers,” Stan nodded. “We can handle it.”</p><p>Mabel remembered being like this once upon a time. She and Dipper ran into trouble they never, ever should have run into because they were so sure they could handle it by themselves. Sometimes adults even tried to stop them, but they always acted as though they knew better. Who knew it would be so frustrating being on the other side of that argument?</p><p>“If I say no, what are the odds of you two going behind my back and doing it anyway?” </p><p>“One hundred percent,” Stan said without any hesitation.</p><p>Mabel sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose underneath her glasses. Suddenly she understood her own Grunkles so much better.</p><p>“...Okay. Okay, if you <i>really</i> want to go camping without your <i>favorite</i> Grauntie, I guess you can,” she said, as melodramatically as possible. “But if you two are so much as one second late getting back, I’m launching a search party.”</p><p>To her surprise, the two of them immediately pounced her for a hug, one twin on either side.</p><p>“Thanks, Grauntie Mabel,” Ford said, squeezing her tight.</p><p>“Yeah,” Stan agreed. “Thanks.”</p><p>Then they immediately took off to go pack, more excited than they had been about anything in days, and Mabel smiled. She patted herself on the shoulder, now that she was alone.</p><p>“See? You make an okay Grauntie, Mabel.”</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>Mabel insisted on making sure Stan and Ford had enough food and water, and plenty of band-aids just in case, and she even fished something out of her big bag for them - a walkie-talkie.</p><p>“I’ll leave you be,” she said seriously. “But <i>only</i> if you promise to call me if you get into any trouble out there. Okay? I might be old, but you know I’ll come running for you boys.”</p><p>Neither Stan or Ford seemed quite sure what to do with that sincere remark, because it was so bizarre to hear something like that from an adult in their lives. So they happily nodded and laughed it off, even though they weren’t sure what sort of trouble would necessitate calling their Grauntie for backup.</p><p>By noon they were off with bags packed and running off into the woods, with Mabel waving them off until she couldn’t see them anymore. Then, as soon as she was sure she was alone, she darted back into the house and started touching the living room wall.</p><p>“Everything else has been same-y,” she said to herself. “Maybe his secret money stash is still here too!”</p><p>Not that she felt particularly <i>good</i> about robbing her Grunkle. No matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise, it still felt like definitely stealing. However, not a single stone she touched did anything - at least, until she poked one that opened the floor underneath her and sent her hurtling down into the basement. Once she returned upstairs, she puzzled over the wall.</p><p>“I thought that was how he opened it...maybe there was some other way?”</p><p>She thought for another moment, and then snapped her fingers and ran back to her bag of tricks.</p><p>“Just a peek,” she said, pulling out her precious Time Tape and her battered Summer Memories scrapbook. “I can’t talk to him, but maybe if I can see what he did…”</p><p>She moved over into the kitchen, so no one would see her suddenly appear, and she cross-referenced the scrapbook to get as exact a date as she could. Back when she was twelve she was much less concerned with things like exact dates and timestamps - that was more Dipper’s department. </p><p>Eventually she decided that June 20th, 2012 was a good bet, and that she could probably figure it out from there.</p><p>“Okay. And Gideon turned up in the afternoon, so…” Very, <i>very</i> carefully she pulled the tape to that precise date and time. “Got it!”</p><p>Except, she didn’t. The time tape sparked violently, but she would not let go. Instead of the usual flash of light, everything around her warped and glitched in sharp lines of color. For a split second she thought she saw her Grunkle as she remembered him in life, somewhere in the time stream. She was so close to him and to Dipper and even her past self was there - in one flash and then another. They were all laughing and watching TV, in different versions of the same precious moment. Reality was bending and twisting but it could only distort so much. </p><p>Then, abruptly, it stopped. </p><p>The living room was dark. Mabel was alone again, and her face was wet from tears she didn’t quite remember crying, though she could feel the heaviness it had left behind in her body.</p><p>Everything snapped into focus when the dark washed over her and the last of the time fragments faded from her vision. She looked up at the nearest clock.</p><p>Midnight.</p><p>Twelve hours had passed, and she didn’t even <i>go</i> anywhere. Or anywhen, rather.</p><p>She could still hear something staticky, and she looked down and realized the time tape, her lifeline for ages now, was still shooting out sparks and smoke. As soon as she relaxed her hand, pain seared through her palm.</p><p>“...<i>Oh no.</i>”</p><p>Her palm would be fine. She could bandage it and it would be okay. She was much less confident about being able to fix magic futuristic time travel tape. </p><p>The walkie talkie was still in her pocket, and still seemed to be okay from what she could tell. She idly pressed the button on and off and on again. Part of her wanted to call Stan and Ford, just to make sure they were still there, that they were still little boys and that she hadn’t misplaced them somewhere in the time stream.</p><p>“Cut it out, Mabel,” she said. “You told them you’d give them space. Besides, what would you even say?”</p><p>They would never believe her. Even if they did, they might blame her for all of this - even the parts she couldn’t explain.</p><p>So, she jammed it back in her pocket and went to treat her wound, and to see if there was anything she could do about the time tape.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>There was a heavy buzzing in Ford’s ear, so loud that it cut through his dreams and jolted him awake. As soon as he was conscious the sound stopped, but his heart was still racing.</p><p>“Stanley? Stan, did you hear that?” </p><p>Beside him, Stan stirred and sat up, rubbing at his eyes. Shanklin chittered and climbed right into Stan’s lap and hissed until Stan started scritching his head.</p><p>“Huh? Did somethin’ happen…?” Stan yawned.</p><p>“Didn’t you hear that static?” Ford was already losing hope though. He couldn’t hear it anymore, and if he couldn’t then surely Stan couldn’t either.</p><p>“Sounds like you were dreaming, Sixer,” Stan said. Then he flopped back down and curled into his sleeping bag. “Either that or this place has a ton of locusts.”</p><p>“No, we’d still be able to hear them…” Ford sighed, and laid down as well. “It was definitely real though. It was loud enough to wake me up.” </p><p>“Guess I was sleeping like a rock,” Stan shrugged. </p><p>He was awake now though, so he tucked his arms behind his head and looked up at the stars. They had found a great clearing to camp in for the night, so they could sleep under the open sky like real explorers. But, when Stan tried to think back on everything else they did…he mostly drew a blank. He had this vague idea of what they had done and the magical creatures they had seen, but it felt like they had only left the Mystery Shack a little while ago.</p><p>It occurred to him to ask Ford about it. It really did. The question was on the tip of his tongue. Somehow though, the two of them just said good night again and tried to go back to sleep as though nothing strange had happened at all.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>The next day, they ran into a bit of a hiccup with the spaceship.</p><p>Finding it wasn’t a problem - the two of them marveled over how the shape of the craft could clearly be seen in the hill, and how it lined up perfectly with the hole in the cliffs. It was easily the coolest thing the two of them had ever seen.</p><p>They were even able to find the hatch that led inside the craft, and scrambled down the ladder to some sort of landing platform. However, there didn’t appear to be anywhere else they could go from there. The only other things they could see were a large pipe, and the deep hole it led into.</p><p>“What now?”</p><p>Ford flipped through Journal 3, only to see their dead end. “...oh.”</p><p>Stan moved to see what his brother was looking at, and Ford explained.</p><p>“It looks like the Author had some sort of magnet gun,” he said, and then pointed their only flashlight at the pipe. “I hadn’t realized it was so essential, but he must have used that to slide down to the next level.”</p><p>“You mean this guy just jumped in a bottomless pit, hanging on by a freaking <i>magnet?!</i>” Stan sputtered. “That’s nuts! This guy’s nuts, and that’s probably where he is - down at the bottom of that pit, a pile of stupid bones.”</p><p>“First of all, the bottomless pit is at the Mystery Shack. Second of all, there are more pages after this, so the Author clearly lived to tell the tale.” Then, Ford got a mischievous look. “And third of all...Stanley, are you actually <i>scared?</i>”</p><p>“No! No, it’s just-- it’s real high up, that’s all! It’s practical.” Stan was red in the face, and notably standing a good distance from the edge.</p><p>“So, I guess you don’t want to try and jump down?”</p><p>“<i>What?!</i> No! Are you crazy?!”</p><p>“Oh, I’m sure it’s not <i>that</i> far,” Ford teased.</p><p>When he took a taunting step closer to the ledge though, Stan grabbed him hard by the arm and held on with a vice grip. Instead of explaining himself, he picked up a rock and chucked it in the hole. Neither of them heard it land.</p><p>“Stan...it’s okay. I was just kidding, I promise!” He put a hand on Stan’s shoulder and gently shook him until Stan let his arm go. “Come on, I don’t think we can go any further here anyway.”</p><p>He nudged Stan over to the ladder and they went back up silently. Once they were back in the light of day, Stan looked more embarrassed than frightened. </p><p>“...We don’t have to leave,” he said. “I was just being a chicken. We--”</p><p>“What? No! Stanley, I said I was kidding before. You were right - a fall like that would literally kill us!” Ford frowned. </p><p>“But it’s a spaceship!” Stan stomped on the ground and it clanked like metal. “When are you gonna get to see another one of those, huh?”</p><p>“From what I can tell, it’s massive.” Ford looked around them, trying to gauge just how big the ship really was, and how far it stretched under the town. “Maybe there’s another way in?”</p><p>Stan wasn’t sure he bought it, and he still couldn’t shake the feeling that he had ruined their only shot - <i>Ford’s</i> only shot - of seeing a real live spaceship. Ford was looking at him expectantly though, as though he was going to be the one to have some idea of where to look.</p><p>“Well...maybe back in those caves?” Stan tried. “There were a bunch of tunnels. Maybe a different one would get us in the ship?”</p><p>Ford grinned. “That’s a great idea! And if all else fails, we can just go examine the cave paintings more closely.”</p><p>It didn’t feel great to Stan. It felt like a back-up plan because he had wrecked the first one, but he mustered up a smile anyway. </p><p>“What are we waiting for then? C’mon, let’s go!”</p><p>Stan playfully gave Ford a shove and ran ahead, forcing Ford to chase after him.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>Getting back to the caves was no trouble at all, but looking for an entrance into the spaceship proved futile. They did come across a metal panel at the very least, but neither of them could get it to budge. Still, it was less hopeless than the hole they’d found before.</p><p>“Eh, we can just come back later with dynamite or something,” Stan said. It felt good to have an alternative that might actually work out for once.</p><p>“A very good and logically sound plan,” Ford nodded along.</p><p>That seemed like something Grauntie Mabel might just have lying around somewhere anyway. If not her then maybe Soos. If not Soos...well, they would figure it out.</p><p>From there they detoured down a few more tunnels, looking for the cave paintings the journals casually mentioned here and there. There were assorted drawings on the walls in many of the tunnels, most of them of people running away from something.</p><p>“Ha! The cave people painted little goats.” Stan lifted up Shanklin so he could see, and Shanklin’s only reaction was to lick the wall.</p><p>“They seem to be running in the direction we came from,” Ford said. “Maybe it’s some sort of rudimentary exit sign, so neanderthals wouldn’t get lost? And if that’s the case, following them must lead to something extraordinary.”</p><p>“Lead the way, Sixer! You’ve got the flashlight anyway.”</p><p>As they made their way deeper and deeper into the caves, the paintings grew more and more frantic in their attempts to escape, but it only convinced the boys that they were going in the right direction for adventure.</p><p>Eventually, the tunnel they were in opened into a wide cavern, and the boys gasped. On all of the walls were ominous paintings of several people worshiping a triangle symbol with an eyeball in the middle. There were many, many murals along these lines - one featured him in a circle among several other symbols, and another with the triangle being sucked up into a hole in the sky while ancient people shot arrows at it.</p><p>“<i>Woah...</i>” </p><p>Both of them were in awe, but it was Ford who snapped out of it first. </p><p>“Stanley! Stanley, I’ve seen him before! Open your bag!”</p><p>Stan did as told and Ford fished out the second journal, flipping through it until he landed on a page labeled <b>Creature #326</b>.</p><p>“This creature is all over the Journals! This is his first recorded appearance, but he comes up again and again - he was the Author’s muse!”</p><p>“Uh. <i>Muse?</i>” Stan raised an eyebrow.</p><p>“His muse chose one mind every century to inspire!” Ford explained. “I haven’t quite finished the readings on him, but he provided the Author with help and hints while he searched for the Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness! He worked closely with the Author and probably knows all about him!”</p><p>“I’m not following.”</p><p>“Stanley, we could <i>summon him!</i> Even if he doesn’t select either of us as his scientific mind of the century, he could still tell us who the Author was! And Journal 2 has multiple instructions for how to do so!”</p><p>Before Stan could answer, Ford was flipping through more pages of the journal eagerly.</p><p>“We don’t have the materials with us for a physical summoning, but there’s an inscription right here on the wall! The Author wrote that this is how his muse was originally summoned. If one of us reads it out loud, we might be able to summon the muse that way!”</p><p>“It just looks like a bunch of squiggles and lines to me,” Stan said, squinting at the words. “Did cave people actually write like this?”</p><p>“It’s a code that the Author was able to crack. He put the translation right here.”</p><p>“Hm. Guess it’s worth a shot then! What’s the worst it could do?”</p><p>Truthfully Stan believed the worst it could do was the same as the best it could do, which was absolutely squat. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in magic - magic was obviously real. He just couldn’t shake that it all looked sort of fake and silly. Even the circle was kind of ridiculous - one of the symbols on it was definitely just a bag of ice, with the word “ICE” written right on it.</p><p>“It should be this passage here…”</p><p>Ford focused the flashlight on the code on the wall as he read the decoded message. He tried as hard as he could to make it sound deeply serious and full of grave importance.</p><p>“It started with bad dreams, which became nightmares. I was foolish. I wanted answers. I painted the symbols and said the words…” Ford took a deep breath. “...When gravity falls and the earth becomes sky, fear the beast with just one eye!”</p><p>Both of them froze in place, listening and waiting. Within a minute or two though, it was apparent that nothing had happened, and that nothing was going to happen if they waited longer. Stan put a hand on Ford’s shoulder.</p><p>“Hey, it was a good try,” he said. “Besides, if these cave guys knew what they were talking about, they’d still be around.”</p><p>That got a sudden laugh out of Ford. “That’s not how that works! They would have to be thousands of years old!”</p><p>“If they were so smart they would have figured out immortality!”</p><p>“Stanley, that doesn’t make any sense!”</p><p>“<i>You</i> don’t make any sense!”</p><p>The two laughed and laughed. Eventually, they followed the cave paintings back out of the tunnels, but not before taking pictures of each other posing in front of the weird circle and making silly faces. By the time they left the tunnels, it was almost dark again. It didn’t take them too long to find another safe spot to build a fire and make camp for the night, and by their calculations it wasn’t too far from the Mystery Shack either. They probably could have just gone home and turned up early, but they weren’t going to squander their last night out.</p><p>Stan stoked the fire idly, thinking at first about how ominous that summoning message was. His thoughts drifted from there though, back across the day until a thought occurred to him that made him snap his stick in half.</p><p>“We could’ve just used the stupid amulet to float down in the spaceship! I can’t believe I forgot about it! My aim’s been getting real good too!”</p><p>“We’ll just have to go back,” Ford said, but truthfully he wasn’t thinking about it at all. He was using his fire poking stick to draw a little triangle in the dirt, with a one lone eye.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <i>On a different night, both not so long ago and very long ago, Stan and Ford were camping on the beach, on the half-broken Stan O’War. It wasn’t very comfortable, but it was a nice escape now that they weren’t grounded anymore. It was fun to sleep under the open sky, like real explorers.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>They should probably have actually been sleeping, but neither of them wanted to just yet. Why cut short their moment of freedom?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Stanley...I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Stan hadn’t even realized how quiet it was until Ford spoke. He tucked his hands behind his head and didn’t take his eyes off the stars.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Yeah? What is it?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Well…” Ford hesitated. “I’ve seen you with this old woman a couple of times. Who is she?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Stan froze. With all of the time travel and the sneaking around, he hadn’t realized they had been spotted.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Oh, uh. She’s just a tourist here for the summer,” he lied. “I thought she was an easy mark for pick-pocketing and, I dunno. We got talking?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“The first time I spotted you, I almost said something. From far away, it kind of looked like you were hanging out with our grandmother.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Stan made a face. “Bubbe Ruth? No way!”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“She looks like her!” Ford insisted. “She even has the Pines hair curl! You don’t see it?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“No, I don’t!” Except, now that Ford mentioned it, he was starting to picture it. “Anyway, she’s just some lady from the boardwalk. I’ve been showing her around when I see her, that’s all.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Ford went quiet, and for a second Stan thought he might have dropped the whole thing. Instead, his next point was more serious - a card he had been nervous about playing.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“...Stanley. She was on her fire escape.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“What, I can’t show a weird old lady our fire escape?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Why are you <b>lying</b> to me about this?! I thought you would just tell me, especially after everything with Pa’s gold chain!” Ford was sitting up now, riled up and annoyed. “Do you think I’m an idiot? Why can’t you just tell me?!”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Ford...you’re not an idiot,” Stan said, looking and feeling sheepish. “And...look, it’s not a big deal, alright? She’s just. She’s nice. Grown-ups aren’t just nice to me for no reason! But...she is. I dunno why, but she is. She actually listens to me and doesn’t laugh me off or tell me I’m a dumb troublemaker.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“...I don’t do those things,” Ford added quietly, now that his temper had cooled a few degrees.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“It’s different. You’ve got teachers and stuff for that.” Stan rolled over, away from Ford.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“I don’t sneak around with my teachers alone on the fire escape.” Whatever Stan was up to was still strange, too strange to just let go.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Just drop it, okay?" Stan snapped without turning back around. "Let me have this.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Ford continued to try and protest for a few minutes, but Stan just pretended to be asleep until he couldn’t hear him anymore. Eventually, he drifted off as well for a fitful night’s rest.</i>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>ZHOO, ZHOO, ZHOO, ZHOO, ZHOO, ZHOO, ZHOO, ZHOO, ZHOO, ZHOO, ZHOO!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. happy fun times for all</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ford meets his muse and a deal is made.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here it is, Bill Cipher time! This one's a real mind-bender of a chapter. Get ready because we're going to shatter all pretenses of a normal AU in this one! Thanks once again for all of the comments, bookmarks, kudos, and views in general! Your theories are wonderful and they keep me going. ♥</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first thing that brought Ford to consciousness, to lucidity, was a gentle rustling above him - like wind blowing through tall sea grass. The thing that made him <i>sit up</i> though was remembering that he was in Oregon, miles away from the ocean.</p><p>Around him was a seemingly endless field of rye. No trees, no Mystery Shack, no Stanley. The only structures for miles were a plain swing set and a familiar dilapidated boat.</p><p>“...The Stan O’War?” Ford gasped.</p><p>Since it was his only real lead, Ford took off running through the field toward it, but after only about five good steps he suddenly began to free fall as the ground completely gave out beneath him. He screamed as he fell, but he never hit the ground. Instead he felt himself pulled to a halt by a bright red beam of light.</p><p>“WATCH YOUR STEP, KID - YOU WON’T LEARN HOW TO NAVIGATE THIS PLACE FOR ANOTHER TWENTY YEARS.”</p><p>Ford wriggled and tried to flip himself around so he could see who was talking.</p><p>“Where am I? Who are you?” he demanded. “Why can’t I--?”</p><p>He stopped short. He had been expecting a dark void below him, but he could see a cavern very clearly - as well as himself and Stanley, marveling over the Stan O’War for the first time.</p><p>
  <i>”This is the greatest thing I've ever seen! And I've once seen a dead rat floatin' in a bucket!”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Ew! What’s <b>wrong</b> with you?”</i>
</p><p>“What the--? That’s…” Ford’s mind raced and before he could think better of it he called out to this other version of him and his brother. “<b>HEY!</b>”</p><p>The two paused and looked up, but they didn’t get the chance to say anything before Ford felt himself being yanked back up to the surface. He took a large breath as though he was coming up for air, and found he was still tethered to whatever had caught him by that red light. It was holding him several feet above the rye.</p><p>“What’s going on? Who are...wait.”</p><p>There was no path, no red string of light attaching them, but Ford was face to face with a small triangle in a top hat, with just one eye.</p><p>“Oh my god,” Ford said, breathlessly. “It’s you. The Author’s muse!”</p><p>“YEP! THE NAME’S BILL CIPHER. AND YOU’RE STANFORD FILBRICK PINES! AND SOMEHOW YOU’RE EARLY AND LATE TO THIS PARTY AT THE SAME TIME!” The Muse laughed, and it sounded unlike anything Ford had ever heard - high-pitched and almost mechanical. “WOW, THIS TIME PARADOX IS A REAL DOOZY! I BET TIME BABY HATES IT!”</p><p>Before Ford could ask about it, or who Time Baby was supposed to be, the Muse flicked his finger. Ford suddenly flew back several feet and landed on his butt in the rye field. The red force field was dropped. Ford wasn’t discouraged though, and quickly got up and paced a little.</p><p>“The incantation actually worked! You’re really-- I can’t believe it! This is...it’s entirely unprecedented!” Ford tangled his hands in his hair. “Oh my god, this is incredible. I might puke. Oh no, why did I say that out loud? I can’t puke in front of the Author’s muse! But this is an astounding discov--”</p><p>“YEAH, YEAH, THAT’S ENOUGH OF THAT.” </p><p>Bill stretched his arm forward by several feet and poked the top of Ford’s head and suddenly Ford was moving at triple, maybe even quadruple speed. It turned regular pacing into rushing back and forth in blurred motion, and his delighted words into high pitched squeaks that would irritate dogs. After about thirty seconds of that, Bill stopped and Ford stumbled from the inertia.</p><p>“GOT IT OUT OF YOUR SYSTEM?” he asked, hand on his side.</p><p>“Uh. I...yes? I think so?” Ford still felt a little dizzy, but he shook his head and tried to clear his brain.</p><p>“GREAT! NOW WE CAN GET TO THE IMPORTANT STUFF!</p><p>Bill snapped his fingers again and suddenly the rye field and all of its contents were blown away, leaving behind a dark blue void for the two of them to float in. It was filled with mysterious artifacts and books, but everything was suspended in the air. Ford looked down, but the memory of discovering the Stan O’War was nowhere to be seen.</p><p>“FIRST OF ALL, WE’RE IN YOUR HEAD,” Bill explained, conjuring up chairs and some tea for the two of them. “THIS IS THE MINDSCAPE! IT’S WHERE ALL YOUR DREAMS AND NIGHTMARES HANG OUT AND TALK ABOUT YOU WHILE YOU’RE AWAKE.”</p><p>“So...this is a dream?” Ford frowned into his cup of tea. “How do I know it’s real then?”</p><p>“HOW DO YOU KNOW ANYTHING’S REAL?” Bill countered. “YOU DON’T! BUT YOU FEEL PRETTY AWAKE, RIGHT? THAT ONLY HAPPENS TO LUCID DREAMERS AND PEOPLE WHO GET VISITED BY ME!”</p><p>“Does that mean I’ll remember when I wake up?”</p><p>“HA, <b>YOU’D BETTER!</b>” Bill went red for such a quick moment that Ford wasn’t sure if he imagined it or not.</p><p>“Wow...I still can’t believe I’m speaking to the Author’s muse,” he said in awe. “Can you tell me who he is? What is he like? What happened to him?”</p><p>Bill took a long sip of tea via his eye and Ford winced, but he was too curious to look away.</p><p>“YOU’VE GOT TWO WHOLE JOURNALS AND YOU HAVEN’T FIGURED IT OUT YET?” Bill tsks. “I THOUGHT YOU WERE SMARTER THAN THAT.”</p><p>Ford nearly choked on his tea. “How did you know that?”</p><p>“I MIGHT NOT HAVE BEEN SUMMONED YET, BUT I’VE BEEN WATCHING YOU, SIXER,” Bill said. “YOU AND ME, WE’VE GOT A SPECIAL BOND THAT LITERALLY TRANSCENDS TIME, SPACE, AND ALL OTHER DIMENSIONS! OUR DESTINIES ARE INTERTWINED. THERE’S A REASON I PICKED YOU TO INSPIRE THIS CENTURY!”</p><p>“Wait, but you picked the Author!” Ford said. “Were the journals really written that long ago?”</p><p>“WHO KNOWS WHEN THEY WERE WRITTEN ANYMORE? BUT NO, GUESS AGAIN.”</p><p>“You...picked a second brilliant mind to inspire?” Ford tried.</p><p>“BZZT. C’MON, THREE STRIKES AND YOU’RE OUT.” Bill pretended to look at a watch on his wrist, getting impatient with all of this.</p><p>“But-- but nothing else would make sense!” Ford panicked. “The only other possibility is that...it’s not even a possibility! It’s an <i>im</i>possibility! In order for that to make sense, I would have to…”</p><p>Bill twirled a finger, urging Ford to keep going.</p><p>“I would...have to be the Author?”</p><p>Suddenly, confetti exploded from every direction. A tall cake adorned with emblems of the journals appeared on the table between them, and Bill burst out of it himself. Chunks of cake went flying everywhere.</p><p>“I KNEW YOU’D GET THERE EVENTUALLY,” Bill said, brushing crumbs and frosting off himself. “YOU’RE AT YOUR SMARTEST WHEN YOU HANG OUT WITH ME.”</p><p>“But that doesn’t make <i>any</i> sense,” Ford protested. “I’m only thirteen! This is the first time I’ve even <i>been</i> to Gravity Falls! Plus the Author mentions going to college, and being in his thirties.”</p><p>“THAT’S WHY YOU’RE GETTING A HOUSE CALL A FEW DECADES EARLY, PIPSQUEAK. BY ALL ACCOUNTS THESE JOURNALS SHOULDN’T EVEN BE A TWINKLE IN YOUR EYE AND NOW YOU’VE ALREADY GOT TWO OF THEM, PLUS A THIRD ONE TO FIND.”</p><p>“I still don’t really understand…” Though, now he felt a little dumb for not understanding.</p><p>“ALRIGHT, HOW’S THIS THEN?” Bill switched gears and waved the cake away. “WHAT IF I TOLD YOU THE WHOLE JOURNAL THING’S A HUGE MISDIRECT?”</p><p>“How so?”</p><p>“IF YOU’RE THE AUTHOR, IT MEANS YOU’D NEVER ACTUALLY <i>FIND</i> THE AUTHOR WITHOUT SOMEBODY TELLING YOU YOU’RE THE ONE WHO WROTE THE JOURNALS! IT’S ALMOST LIKE SOMEONE GAVE YOU THEM TO KEEP YOU BUSY. FACE IT KID, YOU GOT SENT ON A WILD GOOSE CHASE.”</p><p>Ford went quiet. He wasn’t sure what to make of that or how to respond, but just the thought of someone attempting to mislead him on purpose was upsetting. At the same time though, Grauntie Mabel had been the one to give him Journal 3. Would she really do something like that?</p><p>“YOU DON’T BELIEVE ME.”</p><p>“What? I didn’t say that! I just…”</p><p>“NAH, IT’S A GOOD THING! IT MEANS YOU ACTUALLY THINK WITH YOUR BRAIN SOMETIMES! IT’S PRACTICALLY A MIRACLE - I DON’T KNOW IF YOU’VE SEEN THE INSIDE OF YOUR HEAD LATELY BUT IT’S A MESS IN THERE!”</p><p>“Uh...” What could Ford even say to that?</p><p>Bill laced his fingers and pointed up, the same way a person might point to their chin when thinking about something difficult.</p><p>“LISTEN TO ME FORD. THIS IS IMPORTANT - FATE OF THE WORLD IMPORTANT!” he said. “SOMETHING’S REALLY MESSED UP THE TIMELINE, AND YOU’RE THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN HELP ME FIX IT. AND I CAN PROVE IT TO YOU.”</p><p>Another snap and the table and chairs vanished, and suddenly Ford was lying on a couch as though in a therapist’s office. Bill, of course, had cast himself in the role of counselor.</p><p>“LET’S PRETEND YOU’VE HAD A MAJOR CONCUSSION AND ASK YOU SOME QUESTIONS!”</p><p>“Well...alright,” Ford tentatively agreed. No one was actually going to give him a concussion, so it was probably fine.</p><p>“GREAT, ‘CAUSE I WAS GONNA DO IT EITHER WAY!” Bill gave himself a clipboard prop, though he didn’t seem to be using it in any serious way. “LET’S RUN THROUGH SOME BASICS AND YOU’LL SEE JUST WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT. NAME?”</p><p>“...Stanford Filbrick Pines?”</p><p>“GREAT! AND YOUR BROTHER?”</p><p>“Stanley Filbrick Pines.”</p><p>“YOUR PARENTS GOT NAMES YET?”</p><p>“What? Um...Filbrick Pines and Caryn Pines.”</p><p>“HA! SO ANACHRONISTIC, I LOVE IT,” Bill said, scribbling something down. “HERE’S A TRICK ONE - YOUR GREAT AUNT MABEL! WHO’S AUNT IS SHE?”</p><p>“I don’t think these are standard assessment questions,” Ford pointed out. “But..she’s Pa’s Aunt, I believe? That would make the most sense, with last names.”</p><p>This didn’t deter Bill. He just poked the weak link more. “SO SHE’S GOTTA BE YOUR BUBBE’S SISTER, RIGHT?”</p><p>Ford paused. “Bubbe Ruth? I…”</p><p>“THAT’S USUALLY HOW THE WHOLE GREAT AUNT THING WORKS, FORDSY!” Bill said.</p><p>“I know that, but…” Ford started to sit up. “I think Grunkle Dipper was her only sibling? I don’t think she’s ever talked about Bubbe Ruth at all. But that can’t be right It doesn’t add up!”</p><p>“NOPE! BECAUSE THEY’RE NOT RELATED!” Bill stretched his arm out and gently pushed Ford back down into a recline again. “HOW ABOUT THIS QUICK ONE? WHAT YEAR WERE YOU BORN?”</p><p>“1948,” Ford answered. “...On June 15th, fifteen minutes before Stanley.”</p><p>“POINTS FOR EXTRA DETAILS! SO WHAT YEAR IS IT RIGHT NOW, IN GRAVITY FALLS?”</p><p>“20--” Ford stopped, in absolute horror. “Wait…”</p><p>“WHO’S THE PRESIDENT?”</p><p>“Dwight D. Eisenhower?” he sounded oddly terrified, and Bill cackled.</p><p>“NOT IF IT’S 2012 IT’S NOT! YOU’D BE EVEN MORE HORRIFIED IN 2016 THOUGH!”</p><p>“<i>Why</i> is it <i>2012?!</i>” Ford bolted upright again. He had worked himself into a panic. “That can’t be possible! We would be...ugh, we would be <i>old men!</i>”</p><p>“YEP! NO ONE REALLY KNOWS OR CARES HOW OLD YOU ARE BUT YOU’RE DEFINITELY OLD!”</p><p>“So then that means…” Ford thought for an extra second, trying to string this seemingly inconceivable thought together. “...If I wrote the Journals, then I wrote them at some point between 1960 and 2012, and hid them?”</p><p>“NOW YOU’RE GETTING IT!”</p><p>“But why would I hide them?”</p><p>“GREAT QUESTION! I THOUGHT THEY WERE WORTH KEEPING AROUND, MYSELF! BUT YOU’RE THINKING TOO SMALL, SIXER.” Bill slid over to hover near the couch with him and poked his chest. “HOW ABOUT ‘WHY DID I GET HURTLED THROUGH TIME AND SPACE AND WHY DO I THINK MY GREAT NIECE IS MY GREAT AUNT?’ - THAT ONE’S PRETTY GOOD!”</p><p>“She’s my <i>great niece?</i>” Ford squeaked. “But-- she talks about her Grunkles all the time!”</p><p>“YEAH, HER GRUNKLES PLURAL. KINDA CONVENIENT, RIGHT?”</p><p>“But that doesn’t add up either! One of us would be her grandfather, right?” At this point Ford was, for once in his life, desperate for a more normal answer.</p><p>“WOW, GRUNKLE FOR GRANDPA! THAT’S A REAL THROWBACK!” Bill laughed. “BUT NAH - SPOILERS, BUT YOUR MOM’S GETTING A SURPRISE IN ABOUT FOUR YEARS YOUR TIME!”</p><p>Ford’s shoulders slumped. “So, it’s true. Stan and I must be...does she know?”</p><p>“OH SHE KNOWS A LOT OF THINGS! LET’S CIRCLE BACK AROUND.”</p><p>Bill suddenly spun the entire blue void around them several times, and when it slowed down Ford was dizzy, but sitting in a chair again in front of a spectral cup of tea.</p><p>“SO, IF I’M RIGHT - AND I ALWAYS AM, BECAUSE ALL THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE UNIVERSE IS AT MY FINGERTIPS - YOU WEREN’T GIVEN THAT JOURNAL FOR SUMMER FUN OR WHATEVER NONSENSE SHE TOLD YOU,” Bill said. “SHE’S DISTRACTING YOU ON PURPOSE SO YOU DON’T NOTICE WHATEVER <i>SHE’S</i> UP TO THAT’S MESSING WITH THE TIMELINE!”</p><p>“What? No! Grauntie…” That word didn’t feel right anymore though. She wasn’t their Grauntie. She never was. Even knowing that though… “Why would Mabel break the timeline?”</p><p>“THAT, I DON’T KNOW.” Bill’s eye began to change, showing image after image of the Pines family as though shuffling through cards. “MY GUESS IS THE ANSWER’S IN A TIMELINE SO BROKEN THAT I CAN’T SEE IT CLEARLY ANYMORE. THAT’S WHERE YOU COME IN!”</p><p>“But I can’t see into other timelines at all!”</p><p>“NO, BUT YOU CAN FIGURE OUT WHAT’S WRONG WITH THIS ONE,” Bill said. “AS A MUSE I’M CONFINED TO THE MINDSCAPE, BUT <i>YOU</i> CAN ACTUALLY POKE AROUND AND PUZZLE OUT WHAT’S REALLY GOING ON HERE. THIS IS A BIG THING I’M TRUSTING YOU WITH, KID - AND I WOULDN’T BE IF I DIDN’T KNOW FOR SURE THAT YOU’RE GONNA BE SOMETHING REALLY SPECIAL IN A FEW YEARS.”</p><p>That struck a chord in Ford’s heart. “...Really?”</p><p>“REALLY. WHY DO YOU THINK I’M GOING THROUGH ALL THIS EFFORT?” Bill throws his arms up in the air. “YOU AND ME MAKE A GREAT TEAM! IF YOUR TIMELINE GETS ANY MORE MESSED UP, YOU WON’T GET TO GRAVITY FALLS AND WRITE THOSE JOURNALS WHEN YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO! AND IF YOU DON’T DO THAT, THEN YOU’VE CREATED A PARADOX THAT MIGHT MAKE THIS WHOLE DIMENSION COLLAPSE ON ITSELF!”</p><p>“Collapse?!”</p><p>“YEP! AND IF THERE’S ONE THING I KNOW ABOUT YOU FROM THE FUTURE, AND THE PAST, IT’S THAT YOU HATE OTHER PEOPLE GETTING HURT WHEN YOU COULD’VE DONE SOMETHING TO HELP.” Bill finger-gunned at Ford. “I HEAR THAT’S COMMON FOR HERO-TYPES.”</p><p>“I...so this whole dimension wouldn’t exist anymore? Everyone in it?”</p><p>“GONERS, ALL OF ‘EM.” Bill explained. “THIS ENTIRE DIMENSION’S BASICALLY BEING HELD TOGETHER WITH DUCT TAPE AND BUBBLE GUM.”</p><p>“It could fall apart at any moment,” Ford realized.</p><p>“THE FATE OF THE WORLD’S IN YOUR HANDS, FORD. IT’S ALL UP TO YOU.” Bill put out a hand and lit it up with a blue flame. “TEAM UP WITH ME AND WE CAN FIX THIS WHOLE MESS FOR THE BETTER. I’LL GUIDE YOU WHERE I CAN, AND YOU DO A LITTLE LEGWORK FOR ME IN THE REAL WORLD.”</p><p>The fate of the world, as it turned out, was a heavy burden. But there was a part of Ford that was also thrilled. He was special! He was destined for something great! And Bill Cipher, this incredible and wise muse, was trusting him to save everyone.</p><p>How could he say no?</p><p>He took a deep breath, and tried his hardest to sound as important as he felt. </p><p>“I’ll do it,” he said, holding out a hand himself. “I’ll help you.”</p><p>They shook hands, and the blue flame spread to Ford’s. He expected it to burn and sting, but it was actually frigid to the touch - just as the Author had described. Just as <i>he</i> had described. When they let go, he rubbed his hand.</p><p>“But...what about Stan?” Ford asked. “He doesn’t know, and we usually do everything together.”</p><p>Bill sighed, and crossed his twig arms behind his back. “I DIDN’T WANNA HAVE TO BE THE ONE TO TELL YOU THIS, BUT YOUR BROTHER’S UP TO NO GOOD.”</p><p>“...Well. You wouldn’t be the first,” Ford admitted. “But what do you mean?”</p><p>“I’LL ADMIT I’VE NEVER BEEN YOUR BROTHER’S…<i>BIGGEST</i> FAN,” Bill said, carefully. An image of furious white and blue flames flickered in his eye, and then vanished. “BUT HE’S GOT A PART TO PLAY IN ALL OF THIS. I COULD WASTE MY BREATH TRYING TO CONVINCE YOU YOUR FAVORITE PERSON IN THE WHOLE WORLD HELPED BREAK THE UNIVERSE, BUT YOU’RE TOO SMART FOR THAT! YOU’RE GOING TO BE A MAN OF SCIENCE! YOU NEED EVIDENCE!”</p><p>Ford nodded. “I’d appreciate that, if you have it.”</p><p>“I’VE GOT IT IN SPADES, BUT UNLESS YOU WANNA SLEEP UNTIL 207̃012 I’M JUST GONNA GIVE YOU THIS ONE FOR NOW!” Bill held up a hand. “YOU MADE THE RIGHT CHOICE, FORDSY. ENJOY THE SHOW!”</p><p>Then, Bill snapped his fingers one more time, and the world went dark.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <i>Glass Shard Beach’s boardwalk was a good, neutral place to meet. It was easy for Stan and the time traveler to blend into the crowd and act like they were just tourists. Sometimes just being with a different adult was enough for the carnies that worked there to forget he was Filbrick’s little troublemaker.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Everything felt normal, and easy. Spending time with her actually felt good, and she always wanted to be around for some reason. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Summer’s almost over,” the old woman said while they were in line for ice cream. “It goes by so fast, every year.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Doesn’t all time go fast for you?” Stan asked, eyebrow raised.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“I guess you could say that.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>They walked away with two cones - chocolate for Stan and strawberry for the old woman. Stan had gone a little quiet by the time they reached a bench, and she puzzled over him for a moment.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“What’s eating at you, Pumpkin?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Well…” Answers came a lot more easily from Stan than they used to when she would pry this way. He was actually starting to believe she really listened when he spoke. “...I think Ford’s starting to catch onto us.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>She licked her ice cream to try and save her hand from dripping melting parts, but she was listening. “Catch on how?”</i>
</p><p>(Neither of them saw Ford watching them from the crowd, even though he held a little more color than the people around him. Everyone else was pale and distracted, like looking at an old photograph where the faces can’t quite be made out.</p><p>But he was watching. His eyes narrowed in concern at the mention of his name.)</p><p><i>”We camped out on the Stan O’War a couple of nights ago,” Stan explained.</i> (More candidly than Ford had seen him speak to anyone other than himself.) <i>”And he said that he saw us? He caught us on the fire escape, and he thinks it’s weird I’ve been sneaking off to hang out with an old lady we’re not related to. ...He’s pretty ticked off that I lied about the whole thing.”</i></p><p><i>The old woman--</i> (Mabel, definitely Mabel. Ford would know her anywhere) <i>--gave Stan a sympathetic look, and then ruffled his hair with her free hand.</i></p><p>
  <i>“Aw, sorry to put all that on you,” Mabel said, as kindly as she could. “It must be hard to keep it from him.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Yeah.” Stan tried to deflect from the gross feeling building up in him by taking a large bite of ice cream all at once, but it just gave him brain freeze.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“But, no matter what he says, you’re a good kid for doing it.” She puts her arm around his shoulders and gives him a sideways squeeze. “I’ve been being kind of selfish. I was only supposed to come here once, but I keep sneaking back and making it harder on you.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Stan went quiet.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“I mean. You could always just...I dunno,” Stan tested the waters. “...Stay?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“What?” Mabel looked genuinely shocked.</i>
</p><p>(And Ford? Ford looked terrified. </p><p>“Stanley, don’t…”)</p><p>
  <i>”I mean, you keep coming back here anyway. And you keep doing nice stuff like this.” Stan shook his head. “Never mind. It’s stupid. Forget it.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Mabel smiled. “I don’t think it’s stupid at all, Stan. It’s nice of you. ...I mean, I still can’t, but I’m happy you want me to.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“What’s so important in the future anyway, huh?” he asked. “It’s not like you’re even there a lot!”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“I’m going to pretend you didn’t ask that,” she said, going back to her ice cream. “Time doesn’t matter anymore.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“It matters a <b>little</b> or you’d just stick around,” he pointed out, but Mabel just stuck her tongue out at him.</i>
</p><p>(“Stanley, she’s a <b>time traveler</b>! She can’t stay! Are you nuts?!” But, it seemed no one could hear Ford. He was just watching something that presumably had already occurred.)</p><p>
  <i>”Someday Ford will get to know me,” Mabel said. “But he can’t find out before it’s time, or I might not be able to. You get that, right kiddo?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Stan sighed, but he actually leaned against Mabel.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Yeah. Yeah, I get it.”</i>
</p><p>(“<b>No!</b> Mabel! What do you mean before it’s time?! MABEL! <b>STANLEY!</b>”)</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>“Ford? FORD!”</p><p>Someone was shaking his shoulder, and Ford startled awake with a yelp, eyes darting around as his brain buzzed with new and secret knowledge. He was back at the campsite, though he supposed he never really left it. Stan was by his side, and he looked extremely worried. </p><p>“You okay, Ford?” he asked. “You started yelling in your sleep and tossing and turning a lot.”</p><p>Ford stared at Stan, still shaken, as though he was looking at someone he didn’t know. As though maybe he didn’t anymore.</p><p>“I...I’m fine,” he said, bristling. “It was just a dream.”</p><p>“Well, if you’re sure…” Stan trailed off, and then backed off. “G’night Sixer.”</p><p>“Good night, Stanley.”</p><p>Stan laid down, but Ford sat up and watched the stars for a little while, thinking about everything he had learned from his muse. For a moment, he was sure he could see Bill’s face in the stars, watching over him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Qorpq kl lkb<br/>
Qorpq kl tebk<br/>
Qorpq kl tebob<br/>
Kl qorpq kl elt</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. BUT THE TRUTH MUST STILL BE REVEALED</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mabel and Soos throw a Summerween extravaganza to try and draw in customers, and Ford does a little detective work.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello everyone! Sorry this chapter is significantly later than the others were! Life and all that, you know? I should hopefully be back on track now though. Thank you again for all the comments, kudos, and views! I can't believe how many this little fic got between the last upload and this one! You guys are really amazing. Anyway, time for some wholesome Summerween fun!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The trip back to the Mystery Shack was awkward at best. Stan kept trying to talk to Ford about anything he could think of, anything they passed by, but Ford was distant. He hadn’t even opened the Journals once, and he’d been glued to them the entire trip.</p>
<p>Finally, as the Mystery Shack loomed in the distance, Stan worked up the nerve to ask him about it.</p>
<p>“Hey, uh. ...You okay? You’ve been real quiet today.”</p>
<p>“Huh? Oh. Sorry. I’m...tired, I guess,” Ford muttered. </p>
<p>Admittedly he hadn’t slept much, but revelations weighed heavily on his mind and he wasn’t sure what to make of them. Was it all just a dream? He really, <i>really</i> wanted it to just be a dream, but he could still remember it so clearly. It was as though he had been awake the entire time.</p>
<p>However, if he was going to ask Stan about it, this might be the best time, while they were still alone.</p>
<p>“Stanley…” Ford started, and rubbed his hand nervously. “...Does this town seem weird to you? I mean, other than in the supernatural sense. Obviously it’s full of weird creatures, but...does something feel wrong to you?”</p>
<p>It was enough for Stan to stop walking, and look at him curiously. He didn’t understand, but he seemed like he wanted to.</p>
<p>“...No? Not really,” he admitted. “Why? Somethin’ wrong?”</p>
<p>Ford abruptly lost the nerve. “Never mind. ...It’s probably nothing.”</p>
<p>“Well. If you say so…”</p>
<p>As they got closer to the Shack, they noticed something had changed about its decor. It was covered in fake spider webs and black, purple, and orange streamers. A friendly little ghost made out of a sheet was hanging off of an awning, with a big smile drawn on its face.</p>
<p>“Woah, we weren’t gone <i>that</i> long, were we?” Stan asked. He regretted it the second he saw his brother’s reaction though.</p>
<p>“Oh my God.” Ford held his temples in his hands and paled. “What if we <i>were</i> gone that long?”</p>
<p>“Ford. <i>Ford.</i> I was joking.” Stan shook him by the shoulder.</p>
<p>“Oh. ...Right.”</p>
<p>They marched inside, past a jack o’lantern made out of a watermelon and a bowl of candy with a sign that said <b>AN OFFERING FOR THE SUMMERWEEN TRICKSTER! :)</b> and spooky music filled the house. After a moment of searching, they found the source - the Mystery Shack’s party room. Inside, Soos and Mabel were adding more scary decorations and playing with lights.</p>
<p>“Oh, hey dudes!”</p>
<p>Soos waved from the top of a ladder, where he had been hanging some rubber bats from the ceiling. Mabel meanwhile was doing laps around the dance floor in roller skates to hang streamers, and twirling around.</p>
<p>“Welcome home, munchkins!” Mabel glided over to them with practiced ease. “Time to pay the kiss toll!”</p>
<p>Stan laughed as she kissed their foreheads, but Ford mostly looked uneasy.</p>
<p>“What is all of this?” he asked, gesturing at the room. “Halloween isn’t until October.”</p>
<p>“It’s not Halloween,” Mabel explained. “It’s Summerween!”</p>
<p>“<i>Summer</i>ween?” Stan echoed.</p>
<p>“Yeah, dudes! This town loves Halloween so much they do it twice a year!” Soos added. “Well, technically it’s in a couple days on the 22nd, but if we do the party tomorrow then no one’s gotta pick between us and trick or treating. We needed something to bring customers to the Shack and everyone loves a good party! Plus Ms. Pines is gonna let me DJ!”</p>
<p>That date didn't sound quite right, and Ford started counting off days on his fingers, but everyone else ignored him. Apparently they didn't see anything off about it.</p>
<p>“Of course, Soos! The whole thing was your idea.” Then, she guiltily shrugged. “Plus, I kinda owe you after I burned your Question-y the Question Mark costume. But trust me, that was gonna turn out badly. You should follow most of your dreams! Just...not that one.”</p>
<p>Ford raised an eyebrow at her, but Stan was already too excited to contain himself and was bouncing on his feet.</p>
<p>“So we’re gonna have a costume party?” he asked. “Tomorrow?”</p>
<p>“Yep!” Mabel said. “Doors open at 7! We already went and invited the whole town while you were gone, so you two just need to go get your costumes ready.”</p>
<p>“So, are you going to explain the roller skates, or…?” Ford trailed off.</p>
<p>“Oh, these? They’re going to be part of my costume!” she said proudly. “I’m just giving them a spin first since it’s been a while, but I’m not as rusty as I thought I’d be! Back in college I got really into roller derby.”</p>
<p>It was Stan's turn to give her a strange look. “Isn’t it a bad idea to roller skate in a big crowded party?”</p>
<p>“Probably!”</p>
<p>It sounded like she was pretty committed to doing it anyway, so neither Stan or Ford tried to talk her out of it. When she shrugged though, something caught Ford’s eye.</p>
<p>“Wait, what happened to your hand?” he asked. “It’s bandaged.”</p>
<p>She seemed surprised it had even been noticed, and tried to laugh it off as she lowered her hands and tucked them in the pockets of her skirt..</p>
<p>“Aw, it’s nothing for you kids to worry about. I just burned my hand a little in the kitchen,” she said. “Sometimes appliances have a mind of their own!”</p>
<p>“What, did a toaster <i>bite</i> you or something?” Stan laughed.</p>
<p>“If you look really close, they have little teeth in them!” Mabel said, rolling with the bit.</p>
<p>The two of them laughed, but Ford didn’t join in, and after a moment or so they realized he was standing there looking like he had seen a ghost.</p>
<p>“Ford?” Mabel asked. “...Is something wrong?”</p>
<p>“No! No,” he insisted. “I just...I-I didn’t sleep well last night. I think I’m actually going to head upstairs. Maybe...I’ll feel better after a nap?”</p>
<p>His smile felt crooked, but Mabel and Stan didn’t seem to notice. His answer seemed to bring them some relief.</p>
<p>“Aw, well. Get some rest, kiddo,” Mabel said, kindly.</p>
<p>“Yeah!” Stan chimed in. “Take a nap, and then we can figure out our costumes!”</p>
<p>“Right. Yeah. I’m…” Ford turned away from that. “Nap. Right.”</p>
<p><br/>
</p><hr/>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>It took Ford a lot of effort to drift off, more than he was expecting. His heart was still racing from his conversation with Mabel and Stan and the more he thought about it, the stupider he felt. How did he never notice how suspiciously Mabel acted? And she and Stan got along so <i>effortlessly</i>, almost as well as he got along with Ma. Of course he couldn’t see it. Or, knowing Stan, Ford suspected he <i>wouldn’t</i> see it. He would refuse to see it.</p>
<p>He could feel tears in the corner of his eyes and he angrily rubbed them away. It was a stupid thing to cry about - it wouldn’t change the fact that he really had to fix the timeline by himself, and that he couldn’t trust his family with the weight of it.</p>
<p>Thankfully, there was at least one person he could still trust.</p>
<p>Ford wasn’t even sure if this would work. Did he have to be in proper REM sleep to reach Bill? Maybe, but he wouldn’t lose anything by trying.</p>
<p>Before he knew it, his world was blue. He was back in the void where he had last met with Bill Cipher - he had even managed to skip over the field of rye!</p>
<p>“I...I did it!” Ford looked down at his own hands in shock. “Um...Bill? Are you here?”</p>
<p>“SURE AM!”</p>
<p>Ford yelled and spun around - Bill had been hovering about three inches from the back of Ford’s head.</p>
<p>“Bill! I talked to Mabel and Stanley, and you’re right!” he blurted out. “There’s something weird going on! She’s distracting us with another party, and Stan-- he’s buying into it! He <i>never</i> buys into <i>anything!</i> And she burnt her hand but she won’t tell us what really happened, and--”</p>
<p>“SLOW DOWN, KID!” Bill put up two tiny hands, encouraging him to stop babbling. “YOU’RE WASTING YOUR BREATH, I ALREADY KNEW I WAS RIGHT!”</p>
<p>“What do we do?” Ford asked. Then he corrected himself. “...What do <i>I</i> do?”</p>
<p>Bill floated over and turned, so he could sling a friendly stick arm over Ford’s shoulders.</p>
<p>“WHAT YOU’RE GONNA DO IS GO TO THAT PARTY AND LOOK FOR ANYTHING OUT OF THE ORDINARY, ANYTHING AT ALL! THE WHOLE TOWN’S GONNA TURN UP AND IT’LL BE A GOOD CHANCE FOR YOU TO LOOK FOR CLUES. HERE, I EVEN CAME UP WITH A COSTUME FOR YOU!”</p>
<p>He used his free hand to snap his fingers, and Ford’s clothes changed into a stereotypical Sherlock Holmes costume, complete with hat and fake pipe. Ford almost choked on it, but spit it out and caught it in his hands.</p>
<p>“JUST KEEP TRACK OF INCONSISTENCIES. LITTLE THINGS THAT DON’T ADD UP, ANACHRONISTIC DETAILS,” Bill went on. “THE MORE OF THOSE YOU PICK UP ON, THE BETTER CHANCE WE HAVE OF FIGURING OUT WHERE THE WEAK SPOTS IN THIS TIMELINE ARE.”</p>
<p>“Okay. I...I can do that. Of course,” Ford said, tentatively. It felt like a big job, but it was <i>his</i> big job.</p>
<p>“GOOD! NOW GET GOING - IF YOU SLEEP ANY LONGER, YOU’RE GONNA TIP SOMEBODY OFF.” It was a warning, but Bill was oddly cheery about it. “AND IF YOU NEED ME, GIVE ME A RING NEXT TIME!”</p>
<p>“A ring? What?”</p>
<p>If Bill answered, Ford didn’t hear it. He squinted from the bright afternoon sunshine coming in through the triangular window of the attic. He still didn’t feel rested exactly, but he did feel reassured. Once he slipped his glasses back on, he noticed a code scrawled on his palm in black.</p>
<p>
  <i>P50#2</i>
</p>
<p>He gasped and nearly fell off the bed trying to reach for Journal 2. Quickly he flipped to the corresponding page, and there it was - the summoning circle his future self had used to contact Bill, and the incantation he’d used to do it. If Ford needed him, he could call him. Give him a ring, as he’d said so casually.</p>
<p>Ford shut the second journal and flopped back down on his bed. There was something weirdly exciting about it all. He had an important mission of course, something to take gravely seriously...but he also had a secret friend he could sneak away and talk to, someone who was taking his concerns seriously. Someone who knew the importance of keeping the timeline stable, and trusted <i>him</i> to help.</p>
<p>Was it wrong to feel a little happy about that? That he had something special that was <i>his</i>, and his alone?</p>
<p><br/>
</p><hr/>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>By the next night everything was spectacularly decorated, the fog machines were running, and the Pines family was ready to party.</p>
<p>Mabel was skating around, fussing over last minute details and spinning around in her skates to make her skirt twirl. She was decked out as a 1950’s waitress, and ready to zoom around the party giving her paying party goers whatever they needed - while still having some fun along the way. </p>
<p>Soos was at the DJ booth with his trusty keyboard, testing every individual key in order. With his question mark costume burned for good, he’d decided to come as a luchador.</p>
<p>Stan had been planning since the second he found out it was a costume party. Of course he and Ford were going to have matching outfits - it’s what they did every Halloween, and Summerween wasn’t going to be any different! Or at least, that’s what Stan had assumed. After Ford woke up from his nap, he seemed...distracted. It was like pulling teeth to get him to collaborate, and even once he did they didn’t seem to be on the same wavelength.</p>
<p>“A cop would’ve made more sense,” Stan pointed out for the dozenth time as he adjusted his mask. “The phrase ain’t ‘detectives and robbers’.”</p>
<p>“I just...I felt like being a detective,” Ford bristled, and pulled his deerstalker hat down. “Isn’t a robber a little on the nose for you anyway?”</p>
<p>“Eh, maybe,” Stan admitted. “But it was quick and easy and we didn’t have the entire first quarter of the school year to plan.”</p>
<p>It was a simple but easily recognizable costume - a black and white striped sweater, dark jeans, and a black mask. He had also made a money sack out of a pillowcase, but instead of hauling it over his shoulder he was carrying it by the bottom, because Shanklin had decided to ride around inside it. Shanklin was his partner in crime, and had a similar sweater and mask on. Mabel had been absolutely delighted to speed-knit both of the sweaters for them.</p>
<p>Ford’s costume was less elaborate. He was wearing his regular clothes underneath a long trench coat, and he had gotten the hat from Mabel. It felt a little weird on his head though, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that it smelled a lot like wax. The most important props he had were a pen and notepad, as well as Journal 2 tucked away in his jacket.</p>
<p>As people began to arrive Ford immediately pulled out his notepad, trying to spot anything he thought might be of relevance to his new confidant. Mabel was also paying careful attention to the arrivals. Ford filled an entire page just watching her watch for everyone else. Was she waiting for someone? Was she pacing or was she just roller skating?</p>
<p>“You are taking this <i>way</i> too seriously, Sixer,” Stan laughed and playfully knocked Ford’s hat off kilter on his way to the food table.</p>
<p>Ford frowned and readjusted it, but ignored his brother. Stan couldn’t possibly understand how serious this was. Once the room started to fill, Ford retreated to the platform at the top of the stairs to get a better look at everyone.</p>
<p>Priscilla Northwest and Susan Wentworth had arrived together, though their costumes were not at all coordinated. Susan was dressed up as a high class pastry chef with a tall hat, and Priscilla was wearing something that Ford had scribbled down in his notes as “sexy llama???”. From his vantage point he couldn’t tell if she was just very tall or wearing absurdly tall heels, but he suspected it didn’t matter much either way. </p>
<p>An older woman trailed in behind them, someone about Mabel’s age if Ford had to guess. She and Priscilla shared a nod before the girls left for the dance floor (was that her grandmother, maybe?), and then she made her way over to Mabel. The woman was compared to everyone else he had seen in town - she wasn’t in a <i>costume</i> exactly, but she was wearing a dress with intricate lace spiderwebs that looked like it cost more than their apartment in Glass Shard Beach. She carried herself with importance - at least until Mabel skated over to her at top speed and almost knocked her over with a hug.</p>
<p>Boyish Dan Corduroy arrived with his entire family - a full entourage of uncles and his mother. His uncles didn’t seem to be in costume, but Dan had dressed as...some sort of were-beaver? His mother also wasn’t dressed up, but she had at least worn something purple and black for the occasion. The most important thing he noted was that Dan's mother grinned and fist-bumped Mabel before making her way to the dance floor.</p>
<p>Buddy Gleeful had a truly terrible angel costume that Ford suspected his father had picked for him. Thankfully, his father was nowhere in sight. Stan spotted Buddy from across the room though, but Ford was too high up to hear their conversation clearly. His brother doubled over in laughter at the poor boy, but after they exchanged a few words, Stan plucked the halo off of Buddy’s head, bent it into a star, and threw it across the room like a shuriken. Several people yelped and ducked, and Stan and Buddy laughed - together this time.</p>
<p>Janice Valentino was also there alone, and it took Ford a moment to figure out who she was - at first she didn’t appear to be in a costume at all! She had turned up in tight blue jeans, dark eyeliner, and a black hoodie with a strangely familiar broken heart symbol on it. It took Ford an embarrassingly long time to realize that her outfit <i>was</i> her costume, since she was far too cheerful to be properly emo. (Was "emo" a word that had been in his vocabulary prior to now? Or had it been inserted to make the timeline work the way it was supposed to. He scribbled a note to investigate the etymology of it later.)</p>
<p>The party soon began to fill with more and more people, many Ford didn’t even recognize. Bill’s words rang in his ears, and he wondered if he knew any of them in a different timeline - a timeline where he arrived in Gravity Falls when he was supposed to and began his important work with his muse. Are those memories that he should have had? Was he de-aged, perhaps? Or are they memories that might never be, because his childhood was being disrupted in a catastrophic way?</p>
<p>There was another group that he didn’t recognize who made their way over to Mabel and Priscilla’s grandmother. An older woman - tall, broad, and dressed up as a prince - escorted an ethereally beautiful man in a princess dress. He bowed formally, the way real royalty might, until the taller woman elbowed him playfully. Then he offered an apology and curtsied. Another elderly woman with them was dressed as a chocolate bar, though she was short enough that she looked more like a fun-sized version. The whole group of them laughed hysterically when the prince scooped up the chocolate bar in her arms and pretended to eat her. Even Priscilla’s grandmother, a woman who exuded dignity and grace, was cracking up. Mabel pulled the entire group into a tight hug, and from the way her shoulders shook he couldn’t tell if she was still laughing or if she had started to cry.</p>
<p>Who were these people to Mabel? If they were all older, and she really had scrambled the timeline, did that mean they were childhood friends of hers? Were they accomplices? How much did they know about what was going on?</p>
<p>Ford was just beginning to mark that page of notes with extra importance when someone spoke behind him, startling him enough to drop his notepad into the crowd below.</p>
<p>“Are you gonna actually, y’know, come down to the party?” Stan asked, sitting down next to him. He had filled his entire robber’s bag with marshmallows from the food table, and was eating them by the handful. Shanklin had decided to ride on his shoulder instead. </p>
<p>“<i>Stanley!</i>” Ford snapped. “My notes!”</p>
<p>“Ha, uh…” Stan didn’t know what to do with the sudden outburst of anger. “You don’t have to get <i>that</i> into character.”</p>
<p>“I was writing something down, and now my notes are going to get trampled!” Ford rose up, but before he could race down the stairs, Stan caught him by the ankle.</p>
<p>“Relax, I’ll send Shanklin after it!” He held up his possum so it could smell Ford and get his scent, and then set him down on the floor. “Alright! Go steal that notebook, Shanklin! You’ve been training for this heist!”</p>
<p>Shanklin waddled down the stairs at least, but did not seem particularly motivated by the cause. Ford buried his face in his hands and groaned.</p>
<p>“This isn’t a game!” he yelled. “You have no idea how important this is!”</p>
<p>Stan couldn’t take it anymore. He stood up too, so he could shove Ford.</p>
<p>“Of course I don’t!” he said. “You’ve been weird and cagey since we got back from camping! What’s <i>wrong</i> with you?”</p>
<p>“What’s wrong with <i>me?</i>” Ford asked, on the verge of hysterics. “What’s wrong with <i>you?</i> What’s wrong with <i>literally everybody</i> in this town?!”</p>
<p>Stan crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. “Don’t you mean <i>figuratively</i>, you nerd?”</p>
<p>“Don’t you <i>dare</i> talk to me about grammar, Stanley!”</p>
<p>“Don’t you <i>dare</i> talk to me about grammar, Stanley!” he mocked in Ford’s own voice, opening and closing his hand in a talking motion.</p>
<p>“I’ll ‘grammar, Stanley’ you!” Ford shouted, shoving Stan hard. </p>
<p>It triggered a massive fight at the top of the stairs with Stan and Ford yelling and cursing at each other, and catching the attention of some of their friends.</p>
<p>“<b>FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!</b>” Boyish Dan yelled up at them. His mother and all of his uncles quickly joined in, though none of them seemed to be paying attention to what was going on, as though it was just a knee-jerk impulse in their family.</p>
<p>“If you get <i>any</i> blood on me I’m suing you for everything you have!” Priscilla joined in, though she seemed genuinely entertained. Susan was covering Janice’s eyes, but was a little grossed out when her hand came back covered in eyeliner.</p>
<p>“Stan, careful!” Buddy held out his arm as though he could stop them from there. This was bad. This was really bad. “U-Um, maybe someone should get Mabel?”</p>
<p>“Looks like she’s busy with some guy at the door.” Priscilla jerked a thumb in that general direction.</p>
<p>Ford was grappling with Stan over the balcony, but when he heard that he let go of his brother. Stan hit the railing with a heavy thud but thankfully didn't drop to the ground.</p>
<p>“What?!”</p>
<p>He looked frantically at the door, and Mabel was indeed there and not paying attention to his fight with Stan at all. There was a tall, serious-looking man in the doorway, his eyes hidden by the brim of a baseball hat. He tipped his cap politely, but whatever he was speaking to Mabel about seemed dire. Eventually, she nodded at him, and actually took off her roller skates so she could follow him out of the party.</p>
<p>“Oh my god,” Ford gasped. “I-I have to--”</p>
<p>He didn’t finish the thought. He just ran down the stairs and pushed his way through the crowd toward the door.</p>
<p>“Ford?!” Stan yelled from the top of the stairs. Then, he took advantage of the fact that their Grauntie had stepped out of the party. “Ford, what the <b><i>fuck?!”</i></b></p>
<p>Ford didn’t answer. Stan pulled himself upright and leaned heavily against the railing, and none of their friends on the ground level seemed to know what to do either or what was going on. What had gotten into Ford?</p>
<p>After a moment of sulking, there was a chittering at Stan’s feet. When he looked down, Shanklin was there, biting down on a small notepad. Stan couldn’t help giving him a weak smile.</p>
<p>“Good job, buddy,” he said, taking the notepad from Shanklin and giving him scritches for a job well done.</p>
<p>It was a little wet from his spit, but definitely salvageable. He couldn’t help what wondering what was so important in this stupid thing anyway. Ford clearly didn’t want him to know whatever it was, but...it’s not like Ford would know if he took a look, right?</p>
<p>“What the…”</p>
<p>Stan thumbed through the pages, trying to make sense of nonsensical notes written on just about everyone Stan had seen at the party. There were little doodles and assorted musings, but each one was stranger than the last. There was a lot of talk about timeline discrepancies and temporal anomalies, whatever the heck those were supposed to be.</p>
<p>Near the end though, between subjects, there was a doodle that made Stan freeze. A triangle with one eye, just like in the cave paintings.</p>
<p>
  <i>There is no time to waste before all time is erased! My future muse is counting on my assistance and I won’t disappoint him!</i>
</p>
<p>“...Oh no.”</p>
<p>He took off running after Ford, hoping that he wasn’t too late to catch up.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ghdu gldub<br/>
pb pxvh lv VR guhdpb<br/>
kh kdv klv hbh rq ph dqg ph dorqh!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. (HUMANS SHOULD LEARN TO STAY IN THEIR OWN TIME)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Someone's missing, and the boys are still fighting.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Welcome to the halfway mark! That probably feels weird, doesn't it? I know you all are full of questions - will they all get answered? Maybe! Either way, it's all downhill from here! Anyway, thank you again for all of your comments, kudos, views, and so on. The response to this fic has been incredible and I love reading everyone's theories! Keep 'em coming! ♥</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The pick-up truck was emptier than Mabel and Tate were expecting it to be.</p>
<p>“I thought you said you left him here?” she asked.</p>
<p>“I did,” Tate said. “He was belted to the seat and the doors were locked.”</p>
<p>Despite that, the door had been forced open. The seat belt was unbuckled, and there was a pair of shoes and socks abandoned on the floor.</p>
<p>“...It took me an hour to get those on him.”</p>
<p>“Oh no,” Mabel said, only feeling the pit in her stomach grow bigger and bigger. “So, you...said Fiddleford was acting weird?”</p>
<p>“Mm.” Mabel had to gesture for Tate to keep going before he said anything else. “...Broke his wrist with your boys and came home with a brick of a laptop. Was skittish after that though. Wouldn’t look at me, kept yelling about shape shifters. A real wreck. ...Traumatized, is what the hospital said.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, by the way,” Mabel interjected. “About Stan and Ford, I mean. I’m sure they didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”</p>
<p>“It’s quite alright, Ms. Pines. ...We ought to talk and walk though,” he said. “I’m not sure where he would’ve gone.”</p>
<p>“Right, yeah,” Mabel agreed. </p>
<p>With that, Mabel and Tate started walking around the property, calling out for Fiddleford into the darkness.</p>
<p>“Laptop helped at first, y’know,” Tate admitted. “Gave him something to do. But once he got the thing booted up, he...well, you know how smart kids are. They get obsessed. Soon enough he was building something out of an old soda bottle and a light bulb. Didn’t think much of it, but...now he’s talking gibberish.”</p>
<p>“Gibberish?”</p>
<p>“Mm. Lot of cackling too, but that was sorta normal for him...”</p>
<p>Then, there was a clattering nearby. A garbage can had been knocked over. Mabel and Tate both carefully and silently crept over to the trash to investigate, as though they were about to try and catch a scared animal. However by the time they got there, whatever had done it was gone.</p>
<p>“He couldn’t have gotten <i>super</i> far away without his shoes,” Mabel tried to reason. She put a kind hand on Tate’s shoulder, even though she had to reach up a bit to do so. “We’ll find him, Tate.”</p>
<p>He couldn’t force himself to smile, but he did give her an appreciative nod, and tipped his hat.</p>
<p><br/>
</p><hr/>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>Just around the corner of the Shack, Stan and Ford were hiding in plain sight - or more accurately, Stan had grabbed Ford and held him so he wouldn't make too much noise. Stan waited until he couldn’t hear footsteps anymore before he let go and uncovered Ford's mouth. As soon as he did, Ford dramatically gasped for breath and whirled around.</p>
<p>“What is <i>wrong with you?!</i>” he whispered. </p>
<p>“Pretty sure we already went over that one,” Stan said.</p>
<p>“You ambushed me!”</p>
<p>“And <i>you</i> were spying on Grauntie Mabel, and being really weird about it!”</p>
<p>“She’s not--” Ford sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You <i>tackled</i> me and dragged me around the corner!”</p>
<p>“Only ‘cause you weren’t gonna listen to me!” Stan crossed his arms, as though trying to summon the stern energy of their father. “I wanna know what’s going on, Ford! Now!”</p>
<p>Ford went silent, his mouth drawn into a thin line.</p>
<p>“...You’re seriously not gonna tell me?” </p>
<p>Stan’s voice wavered somewhere between anger and hurt, and hovered there for a moment. Ford kept quiet, but this time he looked away, ashamed. Something quietly broke inside Stan, and then lit on fire. He squeezed his fist tight and then pitched something at Ford’s chest - his notebook that had been lost to the dance floor.</p>
<p>“Fine! Keep your stupid secrets!”</p>
<p>Ford scrambled to catch the notebook as it bounced off him, and then held it close. He looked at Stan, at once both heartbroken and apologetic.</p>
<p>“Stanley, you don’t understand,” he said. “Mabel is up to something - something <i>really</i> dangerous! And...and you--”</p>
<p>“And what? You can’t <i>trust</i> me?” Stan accused, all his pent-up annoyance bubbling out. “You’re supposed to be my brother!” </p>
<p>“Y-You’re compromised!” Ford blurted out. “Whatever she’s doing, it has something to do with you!”</p>
<p>“Uh-huh, sure.” Stan rolled his eyes. “She’s done nothing but be nice to us since we got here!”</p>
<p>“Of course you would say that! You were <i>conspiring</i> with her!”</p>
<p>“What are you <i>talking about?</i>” Stan threw up his hands. “Ford, you sound nuts. I’ve been with <i>you</i> all summer!”</p>
<p>“It...it wasn’t this summer,” Ford said, slowly. Horror dawned on him. “I’ve said too much.”</p>
<p>“We didn’t <i>know</i> her before this summer!” Despite himself, Stan was getting pulled back into concern. “Seriously, you’re kinda scaring me.”</p>
<p>“...You really don’t know, do you?”</p>
<p>Ford just stared at Stan for a moment, his shoulders heavy from burden. Stan had never seen him look so completely dumbstruck.</p>
<p>“Uh. ...No?” Stan tilted his head.</p>
<p>Stan didn’t know. Whatever had happened in the past, whatever had happened with Mabel, Stan was just as clueless as Ford - maybe even more so.</p>
<p>“Stanley... Stanley, <i>please</i>.” A sudden desperation gripped at Ford’s heart, and he raced forward. The gap between them closed, and Ford gripped his brother’s shoulders. “I know I sound crazy. I <i>feel</i> crazy! But I promise, something is wrong with the space-time continuum.”</p>
<p>“I...have no idea what that means,” Stan admitted.</p>
<p>“I know you don’t. But I can prove it to you! Quickly, what year were you born?”</p>
<p>Unfortunately outside of the mindscape, in a place where questions have context and place outside of thought experiments, it wasn’t quite as effective. Stan nervously stepped backwards and slid out of Ford’s grip.</p>
<p>“Same year as <i>you</i>,” he said. </p>
<p>“Stanley, I’m serious! Just think--”</p>
<p>“So am I!” Stan yelled. “You’re not making any sense.”</p>
<p>Stan was looking at Ford warily, as though he was a stranger, and Ford’s hands fell to his sides. After all that show of wanting to know, Stan didn’t believe him. Part of Ford still whispered that it was rational - of course it was! Ford was scaring him. How could he not scare him? But that didn’t make the sting of hurt vanish. Stan didn’t <i>believe</i> him.</p>
<p>Ford steeled himself the only way he knew how.</p>
<p>“I’ll prove it to you,” he said. “I’ll find concrete evidence and I’ll prove that something is wrong with the timeline. I’ll prove, without a shadow of a doubt, that Mabel isn’t who she says she is. Stanley, this is <i>incredibly</i> important. My mu-- someone is counting on me to fix it!”</p>
<p>Despite Ford’s conviction, Stan still looked shaken. This raving boy in front of him wasn’t someone he recognized.</p>
<p>“Your muse. That’s what you were gonna say,” Stan said. “Like the triangle guy in your notes.”</p>
<p>“You read my notes?" He paled. "Those were confidential!”</p>
<p>“Not on purpose!” he protested, even though it had absolutely been on purpose. “Look, it doesn’t matter - it doesn’t change what I just said. That guy’s your <i>muse?</i>”</p>
<p>Ford hesitated. Bill hadn’t wanted to involve Stan more than necessary, but it seemed prudent now.</p>
<p>“...His name is Bill Cipher,” Ford explained, skimping on a few details. “He needs my assistance to fix the timeline. He came to me specifically after we summoned him.”</p>
<p>Stan doesn’t take his calm for an answer. “So some triangle tells you time and space are messed up, and you just <i>believe</i> him? Ford, you haven’t been yourself since we got back. Whatever’s going on, whether it’s this dumb triangle or a new theory or whatever...this time it’s <i>actually</i> making you crazy!”</p>
<p>“I’d rather be crazy than keep living a <i>lie</i>, Stanley!”</p>
<p>It came out of Ford’s mouth before he could think better of it. Based on the look on Stan’s face, it was as though he had been struck in the face. Then, he glared.</p>
<p>“After all that, you still think I’m lying to you!” He huffed, and turned away from Ford. “I’m going back to the party. Later.”</p>
<p>As Stan walked away, Ford called after him.</p>
<p>“Stan, that’s not-- I didn’t mean it like that!”</p>
<p>“Stanley, you’ll see! I’ll find evidence and I’ll show you!”</p>
<p>“<i><b>Stanley!</b></i>”</p>
<p>But Stan didn’t turn around.</p>
<p><br/>
</p><hr/>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>It took Mabel and Tate another thirty minutes of hiking through dark woods to find Fiddleford, though even that wasn’t accurate. The truth is he found <i>them</i>, by swinging upside down on a tree branch and nearly scaring the living daylights out of Mabel.</p>
<p>Tate caught her before she could skitter back too far, and Fiddleford stayed where he was, hanging there like a wild possum and laughing hysterically.</p>
<p>“Fiddleford!” his father said. “Get down here and apologize to Ms. Pines this instant!”</p>
<p>The laughing trailed off, though not out of remorse. He stared at Mabel with unfocused eyes, and then scrambled down from the tree to look more closely. His broken wrist did not seem to hinder him at all, as though he climbed around with a cast all the time. She had seen him a few times since Stan and Ford arrived for the summer and he always seemed so much more put together than this. Even though he was a tall boy, his posture was now hunched and animal-like. </p>
<p>“Mabel!” he grinned, and then gave another hearty laugh. “Wow! Boy howdy, you got old real sudden-like!”</p>
<p>“<i>Fiddleford!</i>”</p>
<p>“Uh.” Mabel offered a sideways glance to Tate. “What’s going on?”</p>
<p>“He’s been like this since this afternoon,” Tate said, as Fiddleford scurried around them in circles like a squirrel. “Sometimes it’s-- it’s like he doesn’t even recognize me. Gets us backwards and calls me his son.”</p>
<p>He takes his hat off and grips it tightly in his hands. It's the closest he’s come so far to looking frustrated.</p>
<p>“I just don’t know what to do for him.” </p>
<p>The look on Fiddleford’s face was uncanny to Mabel, familiar in a way she wouldn’t ever wish on anyone. She only had a guess for what might have happened, but a guess was enough to make her stomach turn. </p>
<p>But Tate was looking to her for an answer, as the town’s local woman of mystery. Not for the first time this summer, she felt incredibly unqualified for the position.</p>
<p>“...I’ve seen something like this before,” she said, slowly. “That device he made, it was a gun that can erase a person’s memory. A cult used to use something similar to protect the minds of the people in this town. But if they changed somebody’s memory too much...”</p>
<p>She gestured at Fiddleford - a prime example of a memory gun casualty.</p>
<p>“If I had to guess, the laptop he found must have had a prototype on it,” she went on. “It’s okay though! The whole thing can be undone - especially if it hasn’t been that long since he messed with his brain.”</p>
<p>The next time Fiddleford ran by, Mabel caught him by the shoulders and held him out towards Tate, ignoring the teen’s squirming.</p>
<p>“Here’s what you’re going to do. You’ve going to bring him home, and you’re going to look for <i>any</i> home movies or photos you might have. The memories aren’t really gone - you just have to kinda jog them back into place! We fixed my Great Uncle like that once, and he was totally fine afterwards!”</p>
<p>Tate took his son and held a firm grip on him so he wouldn’t run off again, but Fiddleford started hollering.</p>
<p>“N-<i>No!</i> Lemme go, I don’t wanna remember!”</p>
<p>“Sorry hon,” Mabel said, patting him on the head. “You’re not going to scrabdoodle your way outta this one.”</p>
<p>She yelped and pulled her hand back when he tried to bite it. When he missed, he spit on the ground.</p>
<p>“Thank you kindly, Madame Mystery.” Tate nodded his head, and once he had Fiddleford in a comfortable one-armed hold he put his hat back on his head and tipped it. “...Dunno if we’ve got anything like that though. Might’ve lost ‘em in the move.”</p>
<p>“Ha. Right. ...The move.” Mabel awkwardly rubbed the back of her head. “Just look hard for them, okay? I’ll swing by tomorrow with anything I might have. I scrapbooked Stan and Ford’s birthday party, so that might help? I’m sure I’ve got a picture or two of him somewhere.”</p>
<p>“That would be a real big help,” Tate said. “I greatly appreciate it. C’mon, Fiddleford.”</p>
<p>And then, as though he weighed nothing, Tate hoisted Fiddleford up to carry him under one arm like a duffel bag. </p>
<p>“Need any help getting him into the truck?” Mabel asked.</p>
<p>“I think I’ve got it from here,” he said. “You go on back to your party. Sorry to keep you so long.”</p>
<p>“Aw, it’s no problem! I’m just glad I could help.” </p>
<p>With that, Tate escorted Fiddleford away, and Mabel was left alone. As soon as they were out of sight, she covered her eyes, dragged her hand down her face, and sighed.</p>
<p>“This is <i>super</i> bad,” she muttered to herself. </p>
<p>By the time she returned to the Summerween party, the last of the guests were clearing out. People had started to ditch once they realized the host wasn’t there anymore. Stanley seemed to have picked up some of the slack though, and was seeing off some of his friends. Candy, Grenda, and Pacifica were all gone by now, and it made her wonder if she had only imagined that reunion.</p>
<p>She gave Stan a moment to say his goodbyes while she put her skates back on, and then slid over his way. </p>
<p>“Some party, huh!” She ruffled Stan’s hair. “Sorry I missed the last bit. Fiddleford’s dad needed me for a minute.”</p>
<p>“As soon as you were gone we broke out the beer,” Stan joked. “It got <i>so</i> crazy.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I bet,” Mabel laughed at first, but then slowed to a stop. “Wait, where’s Ford?”</p>
<p>Stan’s face fell. “I dunno. He took off. ...He was being kinda weird. We got in a fight.”</p>
<p>“Oh, Stan...I know how you two can be.” She smiles though, and gives his shoulder a squeeze. “It’ll be okay. Say, why don’t you help me clean up this party?”</p>
<p>“Is...that supposed to make me feel <i>better</i>, or…?”</p>
<p>Instead of answering, Mabel hoisted Stan up on her shoulders. The two of them wobbled at first while the shift in weight tried to force her skates to go in two different directions.</p>
<p>“Grab that streamer and yank it down!”</p>
<p>The two of them laughed and skated around the dance floor as they pulled the decorations off the walls. Occasionally they’d crash into Soos, or he would play them appropriate sound effects on his keyboard. It was probably the most inefficient way they could have been cleaning, but they were having fun and that was what mattered.</p>
<p>Upstairs, in the attic, this scene flickered in Bill Cipher’s empty eye. The world was gray, except for himself and Stanford - who had summoned him after his confrontation with Stan. The rest of his family was having a good time without him.</p>
<p>“I...I don’t need to see any more of it, Bill. Thank you.”</p>
<p>Ford kept his eyes to the floor as Bill’s pupil flickered back into view like an old television.</p>
<p>“LOOK KID, I KNOW IT’S HARD TO TAKE, BUT BETTER YOU LEARN NOW THAN WASTE A BUNCH OF TIME CONVINCING A GUY WHO’S NOT GONNA CARE!”</p>
<p>Bill slid around to Ford’s side and rested his elbow on Ford’s shoulder.</p>
<p>“YOU SAW JUST AS WELL AS I DID,” he went on. “HE’S NOT TAKING IT SERIOUSLY AND HE STILL TRUSTS MABEL OVER YOU. IF HE DIDN’T, HE WOULDN'T HAVE JUST LEFT YOU THERE!”</p>
<p>“...Yeah,” Ford agreed. “Yeah, he wouldn't have.”</p>
<p>But he did. Ford couldn’t explain why that hurt as much as it did, but at least Bill understood.</p>
<p>“DON’T GET TOO HUNG UP ON IT,” Bill said cheerfully. “YOU’VE GOT WORK TO DO, AND IF HE’S NOT GONNA TRUST HIS ONE AND ONLY TWIN THEN THAT’S HIS PROBLEM, NOT YOURS!”</p>
<p>“I’m...I want to give him one more chance,” Ford decided, holding his hands behind his back. “I’ll find evidence he can’t possibly refute.”</p>
<p>“HEY, IT’S YOUR FUNERAL, SIXER - MAYBE LITERALLY! MAYBE EVEN STANLEY’S TOO!”</p>
<p>Ford frowned in serious concern, and then began to snuff out the candles that had summoned Bill in the first place.</p>
<p>“I have to try. ...We’ll speak again soon, my muse.”</p>
<p><br/>
</p><hr/>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>
  <i>It was autumn of 1970, and school had started again. It was always the best time of year for Ford, when academia seemed to be at its most appealing to all. Leaves turned, classes started, and everything around him was designed to encourage growth and learning - even at an institution like Backupsmore, which was hardly prestigious by any means.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>At the moment, he was in the library studying for his first exam of the year with Fiddleford, but his roommate seemed...distracted.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“Fiddleford?” Ford asked. “Did you hear me? I said something blatantly incorrect and you hardly blinked!”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“Sorry, I…” He shook his head. “Did you notice we got a new librarian?”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“No? Should I have?” </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“You’re in here often enough, y’know,” Fiddleford chided him. “It’d do you some good to learn their names. But anyway, that ain’t it. I just...she keeps lookin’ at you?”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Ford moved to turn around and look at the main desk behind him and Fiddleford grabbed his arm.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“Don’t call attention to it! Just...I dunno, look when we go or something. She’s been pretending to read a book and she keeps peeping over the top of it to watch you.”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Sometimes Fiddleford could get himself worked up about relatively minor things, but something about this assertion was more unsettling. Ford didn’t like the idea of being watched. Instinctively, he slid his hands under the table.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“Is she-- how is she reacting?”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“I can’t tell from here,” Fiddleford admitted. “She mostly seems to be just looking.”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Ford frowned. Then, he moved to gather their things.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“Then we’ll go somewhere else, out of her line of sight,” he declared. “There’s probably another table in the back.”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>As they packed up their books, a librarian was indeed watching them. An older woman with long gray hair and a pink bag by her side watched them go, from behind a copy of the novelization of Dream Boy High - a book that wouldn’t exist for at least another fifteen years.</i>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>ROG PDQ PFJXFNHW?<br/>
BRXQJ PDQ PFJXFNHW?<br/>
QR, LW'V ROG NLG PFJXFNHW!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. YOU MUST BE AWARE OF YOUR REALITY, NEVER IGNORE COINCIDENCE!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ford and Stan spend an unusually quiet day at the museum. Mabel does some damage control.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's been a while! Life's been a little chaotic, but if you're still reading this fic welcome to the new chapter! Thank you so much as always for the comments, the kudos, and the views as always - they mean a ton to me, especially in the downtime between chapters. Hopefully things will calm down and the next chapter will come a lot sooner! ♥</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Alright my little broken teacups, I’m not letting whatever’s going on between you last all summer.”</p><p>Stan and Ford were in the backseat of her red El Diablo, scooted as far away from each other as they could possibly manage in such a small space. Both of them grumbled at Mabel's insistence that they spend the day together in town, where they couldn’t sneak off into different corners of the house.</p><p>She pulled up in front of the Gravity Falls Museum of History, and Stan groaned dramatically. Ford was a little more intrigued, and it actually made the dark cloud over him clear away for just a moment...at least, until something occurred to him.</p><p>“Wait, aren’t you going to park?” he asked.</p><p>“Nope!” Mabel said. “I have some business in town, so I’m dropping you boys off for a day of museum fun time! I picked out something you might like, ‘cause I know you haven’t been feeling great lately, Ford.”</p><p>“...Oh. That’s. That’s really nice, actually.” Nice enough to make him feel a pang of guilt.</p><p>“Grauntie Mabel, I’m gonna <i>die here</i>,” Stan sank to the floor of the car, raising one trembling hand up as though he was drowning. “I’m gonna die of boredom!”</p><p>“Ha! No you won’t. There’s plenty to do at this old museum!” she said. “Uncover conspiracies about the town’s founder, laugh at old time-y settlers and their bad takes on everything, get balloons if it’s free balloon day--”</p><p>“It’s statistically unlikely to be free balloon day,” Ford pointed out.</p><p>“Anyway, you kids are going to have a great time! I’ll be back for you in a couple hours.”</p><p>They both climbed out of the car and watched as Mabel sped away. Ford squinted at the license plate for a second, but ultimately decided that Stan wouldn’t care about what he had noticed - not if he couldn’t see it for himself anyway. By the time the thought had formed, Mabel was gone.</p><p>Ford and Stan looked at each other, as though they weren’t sure what the next step was from there. Frankly Ford expected Stan to refuse, or to flat-out ditch him with the over the top reaction he had, but he mostly seemed sullen.</p><p>“...Are we gonna stand here all day?” Stan finally asked. “Let’s get this over with already.”</p><p>With that, he turned and headed up the front steps. Ford followed behind at a short distance. They were (perhaps predictably) not greeted with free balloons, and despite it being an afternoon in the middle of summer, there didn’t seem to be any patrons besides the two of them. </p><p>“Does anyone even work here?” Stan asked, looking at the empty greeter’s desk. Before Ford could offer an explanation, Stan cupped his hands and yelled, “<b>HELLO? ANYBODY HOME?</b>”</p><p>“<i>Stanley--!</i>” Ford tensed, as though someone was going to come out and yell at them.</p><p>But...no one did. No one responded at all.</p><p>“Wait. Is it closed today?” he asked.</p><p>“The door was open.” Stan shrugged. “Plus the lights are on, and that’d be kinda weird if it was closed, right?”</p><p>It was true, plus they could hear the distant hum of old electronics around them. The power was on, but no one seemed to be home. Ford doubled back to check the hours on the door, and by all accounts the museum should have been open for business.</p><p>“This is...extremely peculiar,” Ford admitted. “There isn’t even a sign saying they stepped out.”</p><p>“Guess it’s our museum now! Maybe it’ll actually be fun now that no one can stop me from touching everything!”</p><p>“Stanley, I will stop you,” Ford said, very seriously. </p><p>“Relax, Sixer!” Stan gave him a playful punch in the arm. “Besides, we’re not going to find out what’s going on if we stick around the lobby, right?” </p><p>“I suppose you have a point…”</p><p>“I always have a point!” </p><p>The potential for adventure seemed to have perked Stan up a little, and he led the way into what had somehow become trespassing in the museum.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>Mabel wasn’t a big fan of coffee, but she accepted some from Tate to be polite and put as much sugar and cream in it as she could get away with while he calmly explained the downright bizarre things that had happened since he brought Fiddleford home the night before.</p><p>“He spent nearly an hour yelling about how his beard had gone missing,” he said. “He’s only fourteen. Never had one to begin with. Boy nearly bit my fingers off when I pulled him out of one of his robots too. Right now he’s gone and made some sorta...strange nest in his room. Asked about his raccoon wife.”</p><p>At some point, pouring spoonfuls of sugar into her coffee had become an automatic, horrified reaction.</p><p>“So, um. That’s...not great,” she said, helplessly. “Did you find any pictures or home movies?”</p><p>Tate shook his head, and Mabel’s face fell.</p><p>“That’s so sad though! You don’t have <i>any</i> pictures? I don’t know what I’d do without my scrapbooks.”</p><p>He shrugged and sipped at his coffee.</p><p>“They’re just paper. Memory’s what’s the important part.” Still, he frowns. “Never thought I’d need them for something like this.”</p><p>“It’s always good to catalog your entire life in case of an amnesia emergency,” Mabel said, as though this was a perfectly normal practice.</p><p>She reached into her pink bag and pulled out a newer scrapbook, the one she had been chronicling Stan and Ford’s summer adventures in. A few flips in reveals several pages of pictures from their thirteenth birthday party, different shots with different kids in town.</p><p>“I don’t have <i>many</i> of him, but there’s at least a few,” Mabel said. “Fiddleford was a bit camera shy.”</p><p>Most of the pictures with Fiddleford in them are awkward group shots or candid photos secretly snapped when Ford and Stan didn’t realize she was looking. A photo of Fiddleford and Ford having a conversation in a quiet corner, and another photo of Stan posing like a giant godzilla and Fiddleford laughing hysterically. Fiddleford awkwardly trying to straighten his posture in a photo with all the guests, to look a bit more put-together.</p><p>“If we show him these, it should help jog his memory.”</p><p>Tate nodded. “I’ll go wrangle him.”</p><p>“I’ll try not to think about what that means,” Mabel said, deciding her completely undrinkable coffee needed a fifteenth spoonful of sugar.</p><p>Behind her she could hear raised voices and commotion and...was that a hiss? She was pretty sure that was a hiss. Something broke on the ground, and that was when Mabel raised the cup of terrible coffee and forced herself to take a sip.</p><p>“This is fine,” she said, to no one in particular.</p><p>Soon, Tate emerged with Fiddleford slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and he plopped him into a chair at the table.</p><p>“You’re gonna stay here and look at these pictures,” he said, firmly. “Get your memory back.”</p><p>“I want my raccoon wife back!” Fiddleford huffed, crossing his good arm over the one in the cast. “And my beard back! And my lil’ shack at the dump back!”</p><p>That only made Mabel even more certain of what was happening, and something twisted in her stomach. She reached out and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, and even though he startled he settled down easily enough.</p><p>“I’m really sorry, Fiddleford,” she said. “I don’t know what happened that made you want to forget so bad, but everything has to be super confusing now, right?”</p><p>“I…” Fiddleford’s eyes darted around for a second, as though the answer he needed was somewhere else in the room. “Y-Yeah. Yeah, it’s hard to recall…”</p><p>He moved to stroke a beard that isn’t there, and jumped when he remembered it wasn’t there.</p><p>“What’s the last thing you remember?” Mabel asked.</p><p>He closed his eyes and made a face, trying hard to concentrate. “It was Summerween. You kids were hounding me and hollerin’ and one of you rammed into me and I skittered off. Then I was here in my son’s house, all son-like myself!”</p><p>“I’m not your son,” Tate said, pinching his nose under the brim of his hat. “I’m your old man. We’ve been over this.”</p><p>“No, <i>I’m</i> the old man!” Fiddleford protested. “If I wasn’t missin’ my beard I’d show you!”</p><p>“Fiddleford...have you looked in a mirror yet by any chance?” Mabel tried.</p><p>“I dunno who that rapscallion in the glass is, but he ain’t me!” Fiddleford shook his fist. “He better get outta there before I show him a thing or two about-- about things!”</p><p>Carefully, Mabel slid over the scrapbook, and patiently pointed to pictures one by one.</p><p>“We have pictures of you though! You came to Stan and Ford’s thirteenth birthday party, see?” </p><p>“Stanford?” Fiddleford asked. Mabel didn’t correct him, and he looked a little closer at the photos. He even reached out to touch one of them, one where he looked particularly gangly and awkward.</p><p>“It was a few weeks ago now,” Mabel explained. “You had a lot of fun that day, played games, even sang a couple of country songs on the karaoke machine. Stan got a pet possum and you thought it was the sweetest thing.”</p><p>She gestured to a picture of Shanklin in all of his glory, in a professional-looking photo that Stan had insisted she take. Fiddleford melted at the sight.</p><p>“He’s <i>beautiful</i>...” He reached to touch the picture, and stopped short. “Wait. I...I remember this. I’ve seen this possum!” </p><p>“That’s right! You were there when Stan got him!” Mabel grinned, latching onto that one bit of recognition.</p><p>“But…” Fiddleford frowns. “But. That don’t make a lick of sense. <i>You</i> don’t make a lick of sense!”</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“You gave him that possum! But you’re supposed to be a little girl! You’ve been running around this old town with your brother whats-his-name. Darren?”</p><p>“Dipper.” Mabel pulled her hand away from him. “His name was Dipper.”</p><p>“...Was?”</p><p>“That’s enough, Fiddleford.” Tate stepped in before Mabel could even react. “Don’t be rude, son.”</p><p>“I’m not your son! You’re <i>my</i> son, sonny boy!”</p><p>“You do remember the party though!” Mabel took back the scrapbook and shut it. “That’s probably enough for one day. We, um. We don’t want to overwhelm you all at once. Tate, see if any of his other friends have pictures or videos of him.”</p><p>“Will do, Madame Mystery.” Tate tipped his hat at her.</p><p>Mabel stood, but she didn’t leave just yet.</p><p>“Oh, uh. One more thing, Tate. ...Can I see that gun he made?”</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>“Ha! Sixer, if you look at this one upside down, it’s a lady pointing!”</p><p>Stan was sitting on a bench upside-down, but Ford wasn’t listening to him. So far they had gone through a good portion of the museum and not seen a single other person there. Nothing about the exhibits themselves stood out as unusual to him, but there was one thing that had caught his eye.</p><p>He looked over at Stan, who had tumbled off the bench and was stumbling from the head-rush, and wondered if it was worth mentioning. Bill was probably right - he wouldn’t care. He wouldn’t care, and it was unsettling how easily he could move on and pretend they weren’t still angry with each other.</p><p>But, Ford wanted to try.</p><p>“Stan...have you looked up at the ceiling?”</p><p>“Huh? No?” That prompted Stan to do so though, and he stared at it for a second. “There’s...a bunch of tubes up there.”</p><p>“I think they’re pneumatic tubes,” Ford explained. “They use a vacuum to transport solid objects from one place to another. But what I can’t figure out is why a <i>museum</i> would have a system like that. The exhibits would be too fragile to transport that way.”</p><p>Ford looked at Stan, as though he thought his brother might blow him off or tell him he was being paranoid or make the same concerned faces he made the night before. But Stan considered it more seriously than expected.</p><p>“Well...it’s got to go somewhere, right?” </p><p>“True. If there was an opening we could send something through and follow it, but...it couldn’t hurt to pick a direction and follow it for now,” Ford agreed.</p><p>So, the two of them walked deeper into the museum, and despite their brief moment of civil conversation, things quickly fell quiet between them. There were a few different tubes, but they all seemed to stem from the same direction. About five minutes of walking led them to a peculiar and unsettling room - one that was <i>full</i> of different eyeball exhibits.</p><p>“This is more like a haunted house than a museum,” Stan said, as he examined a jar full of different colored eyes.</p><p>“Why would a museum have a working fireplace…?” Ford inspected it, and there didn’t seem to be any obvious switches anywhere.</p><p>“Maybe it gets cold? I dunno.” </p><p>Stan shrugged. But then, he noticed something strange when he looked up. Every eye in the whole room seemed to be looking in the same direction, even the ones in the jars. Their line of sight pointed directly at one spot on the wall - an old-looking tablet with an eye.</p><p>He probably should have said something out loud, but Ford <i>did</i> tell him he would stop him from touching things. With that in mind, he crossed the room and touched it before Ford could notice. There was a creaking noise and Ford yelped and stumbled backwards as the fireplace slid out of place, revealing a set of stairs.</p><p>“I <i>definitely</i> didn’t touch anything,” Stan said, when Ford looked back at him.</p><p>Ford pushed himself onto his feet and started for the stairs, and Stan quickly followed.</p><p>“This is incredible. A real secret passage in a museum…” he said, in awe.</p><p>“You only see this kinda thing in movies!” Stan chimed in. </p><p>Their voices echoed against the walls of the hall as they made their way deep under the museum, squabbles momentarily forgotten in favor of a mystery to solve. The staircase emptied into a wide chamber with a chair in the middle, and a chest on a pedestal. Like the rest of the museum, it was eerily quiet.</p><p>“Careful--” Ford said when he saw his brother step forward.</p><p>“Sixer, relax. There’s nobody here!”</p><p>Ford frowned, but he followed Stan out into the open.</p><p>“Someone <i>was</i> here…” he said. “Someone had to have built this chamber! Some sort of secret society, maybe? And this would be where they indoctrinate new members…”</p><p>The chair, he noticed, had restraints. Whatever this room was for, people were brought there against their will. The thought made his blood run cold, and he looked to the shadows to see if he could spot anyone spying on them.</p><p>Stan was less worried. He was checking out the chest on the pedestal - a real life treasure chest, even if it was sort of puny! It had a small amount of weight to it, but it was locked. </p><p>“You don’t have a bobby pin, do you?” he asked, while trying to literally peek through the key hole.</p><p>“Stan, <i>why</i> would I have that?”</p><p>He shrugged. “I dunno. You think this thing will break open if I chuck it at a wall?”</p><p>“Can you <i>please</i> take this seriously?!” Ford snapped. “It could be booby-trapped! O-Or you could break whatever’s in it! Just leave it alone if you can’t open it, alright?”</p><p>He sighed heavily and went back to investigating the chair. There wasn’t much else to note about it except that it was dusty. Everything in the room was dusty, as though no one had been in this chamber for some time. Even the chest had a thick layer of dust, except for the places Stan had touched it.</p><p>Wait.</p><p>“Stanley?” There was no reply. “...Stan, this isn’t funny!”</p><p>Still, there was nothing. There wasn’t even much else in the room, except one end of the pneumatic tubes. Where could he have gone? How long had Ford been examining the walls?</p><p>The tubes were the only remaining clue. So, with renewed determination, Ford took off one of his socks and sent it up, and chased after it to see where it led.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>Mabel never thought she would be holding a memory gun in her hands again.</p><p>“...I haven’t seen one of these in fifty years,” she said to herself, very gently turning it in her hands.</p><p>She had excused herself for the day, and she and Tate agreed it might be best if she took the strange device with her. They didn’t want Fiddleford to hurt himself any more with it than he already had, or to undo the minor progress he’d made…if she could really call it that.</p><p>The car - her Great Uncle’s old El Diablo - was parked by the lake, and Mabel was leaning against the hood. It was a little too soon to pick the boys up from the library, or wherever their adventure led them, so she was killing time. If they were anything like her and Dipper, they were probably well on their way to uncovering the secret of the 8th and a half president of the United States by now. </p><p>Thinking about it just reminded her of the mess they were in though. Was Quentin Tremblay still encased in peanut brittle? Would he still be there to find even though they had skipped out on Pioneer Day? She didn’t know.</p><p>Idly, she kept punching in commands and not pulling the trigger. <i>Original Timeline</i>. <i>Timeline A?</i> <i>Glass Shard Beach.</i> Typing and erasing different possibilities, over and over. She would never do it, she <i>could never</i> do it. It would go against everything she had believed since she was almost thirteen years old.</p><p>Still, that didn’t mean the thought didn’t cross her mind now that the means were in her hands. She had to admit things would be a lot easier if she didn’t know what she knew.</p><p>“...Get it together, Mabel. This thing is <i>way</i> too dangerous.”</p><p>She shook her head, and then unceremoniously dropped the memory gun into her bottomless pink bag.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>Running felt really weird with only one sock on in his shoes, but Ford couldn’t lose sight of where the tubes were leading him. He nearly slipped and fell twice, but soon enough he made it to the end - a large ornate door.</p><p>A large ornate door that was already open, it seemed.</p><p>Ford took a deep breath, steeled himself, and pushed it open the rest of the way. There was another chamber beyond, full of boxes and boxes of tubes. His sock zipped to the end of the line, and bounced off the head of a statue near the far end of the room.</p><p>Among the mess was Stanley, looking through different piles of tubes.</p><p>“There you are! I thought something had happened to you!” Ford said, rushing over. “How did you get here first? And...what <i>is</i> all of this?”</p><p>“First I don’t take it seriously enough and then I take it <i>too</i> seriously,” Stan said, rolling his eyes. “I wasn’t getting anywhere with the box and you were being a jerk, so I checked something else out while you weren’t paying attention.”</p><p>He pulled his magic amulet out from under his shirt. “I followed this thing down the pneumonia tubes. But hey, check this out.”</p><p>Ford didn’t know what to make of that, but Stan didn’t give him time to think about it much (or to correct him). He tugged his brother over to an absolutely ancient-looking television with what looked like a giant battery slot.</p><p>“Pop this in,” Stan said, handing him a tube with the name <i>BUD GLEEFUL</i> written on it.</p><p>“Why would Bud’s name be on this...?”</p><p>“Just watch.”</p><p>He put in the tube as told, and the television flickered on to reveal...someone who was decidedly <i>not</i> Buddy. He was much bigger and older, easily in his thirties or forties, and he was sitting calmly in the chair from the other room. The restraints were not being used, and he was wearing a dark red robe.</p><p>“<i>Bud Gleeful,”</i> an unseen chorus chanted. “<i>Tell us what it is you have seen.</i>”</p><p>“<i>I-I--</i>” He hesitated. “<i>My son was a real handful today. He don’t mean nothin’ by it I’m sure, but the boy’s a <b>bit</b> too into his dark magic. Eyes rolled all back in his head, chanting Latin curses against the Pines family. Th-The whole thing was, it was deeply unsettling. I truly wish to forget what I have seen</i>.”</p><p>The tape flickered out after Bud’s confession, and Ford and Stan were silent. Stan was staring at Ford as though he could explain it, but Ford was still looking at the screen in shock.</p><p>“This is...Stanley, do you realize what you’ve found?”</p><p>“The weirdest home movies ever?” he joked.</p><p>“Stanley, this is proof of what I’ve been trying to tell you!” Ford grabbed Stan by the shoulders and shook him a little. “Proof that there’s something wrong with time!”</p><p>“Wait, you really think that’s Buddy?” Stan asked. “That guy was old enough to be our Dad, and he’s got some creepy kid.”</p><p>“Exactly! A creepy kid who was cursing <i>the Pines family</i>!”</p><p>“You sound way too happy about that, Ford.”</p><p>“That hasn’t happened, Stan. We would absolutely know if there was a curse on us,” Ford nodded sagely, as though agreeing with himself. “These have to be evidence of another timeline.”</p><p>“<i>Or,</i>” Stan pointed out, “it could just, y’know. Be the future? Maybe this <i>is</i> Buddy, and his future son is an actual demon. Considering his dad it probably runs in the family - maybe it skips a generation.”</p><p>“...I suppose you have a point,” Ford sighed. “Either way though, you have to admit <i>something</i> happened to the timeline in order for these tapes to even be here in the first place.”</p><p>Stan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Fine. Something weird is going on. Happy? But there’s no way we’re gonna be able to watch all of these tapes and figure it out before Grauntie Mabel gets here.”</p><p>“Well, we’ll have to make the ones we watch count,” Ford conceded. “With the amount here, I wouldn’t be surprised if the entire population of the town is represented.”</p><p>“I haven’t seen any with our names.” Stan started to sift through a nearby overflowing box. “Or with Grauntie Mabel’s.”</p><p>“Maybe Grunkle--” Ford caught himself and frowned. “...Maybe Dipper then.” </p><p>“You still won’t call them your great aunt and uncle? Seriously?” Stan said. “They’re our <i>family</i>.”</p><p>“I don’t want to talk about it,” Ford said. “Let’s just-- let’s look for anyone we know.”</p><p>Stan grew quiet, but mercifully let the subject drop. For about fifteen minutes they looked through boxes and tried different tapes, though nothing was as strikingly familiar as Bud’s tape. There was one tiny moment where things were almost normal, where the boys cracked up laughing while watching a man they didn’t recognize rant on and on about his marital problems with a woodpecker. It passed as soon as the laughter faded away though, and they moved to their separate piles of tapes.</p><p>Something caught Ford’s eye by the statue at the end of the room. The statue itself was unsettling - a man in a robe with his arms outstretched - but there were more tapes behind it. Most of them were unfamiliar (though there was one marked <i>PRESTON NORTHWEST</i> - Northwest couldn’t be <i>that</i> common of a last name, could it?). However, as he reached the end of the row, one name stood out.</p><p>
  <i>MCGUCKET</i>
</p><p>“Stanley, look!”</p><p>When Stan made it over, Ford was on his tiptoes trying to reach the McGucket tape. Stan tilted his head a little.</p><p>“You think that’s Fidds?” he asked.</p><p>“I don’t know,” Ford admitted. “It has to be either him or his father, right?”</p><p>“Don’t sweat it, Sixer. Here--” </p><p>Stan clutched the magic amulet, and both he and the tape glowed a soft blue. Then, he carefully lifted it off of the mantle, and the plan from there was to gently float it down into Ford’s hands.</p><p>Unfortunately, lifting the tape triggered a pressure-sensitive alarm, and it blared throughout the entire museum. It startled Stan enough that his concentration broke, and the tape dropped onto Ford’s head. Ford scrambled to catch it before it could hit the floor, and clutched it close to his chest.</p><p>“We gotta get out of here!”</p><p>“B-But the other tapes--!” Ford protested. “No one’s in the museum anyway, it’s just loud!”</p><p>“Ford, there’s <i>no time</i>,” Stan said. “Alarms like that can call the cops when you trip them! We gotta go, <i>now!</i>”</p><p>“...Wait, why do you know that?” Ford squinted at him. “Have you actually robbed a museum before?”</p><p>He expected playful banter in return, or anything distinctly more like Stan than what actually happened. A look of confusion crossed Stan’s face for a second, with alarms still blaring around them. He was searching his brain for an answer, and was coming up empty. Ford gasped.</p><p>Stan didn’t know. He didn’t <i>know</i> why he knew that. But before Ford could call him on it, Stan shook his head.</p><p>“We don’t have time for this!” </p><p>He grabbed Ford’s hand and they sprinted back through the museum as the alarms kept ringing and ringing. Even if the place really was empty, there was no doubt that <i>someone</i> would respond to it sooner or later.</p><p>Within minutes they burst out the front doors to see Mabel just pulling up to the museum, her car crawling from a slow, concerned roll to a stop. Before she could ask, Stan practically threw himself into the car.</p><p>“WE HAD A GREAT, COMPLETELY NORMAL DAY AT THE MUSEUM,” he yelled impulsively. “LET’S GO HOME AND NOT TALK ABOUT IT AT ALL.”</p><p>Ford wasn’t quite so obvious when he piled into the car, but when Mabel looked at him in the rear view mirror for an explanation of why there were alarms blaring, he just sighed and said nothing.</p><p>“Uh. Great!” Mabel tried. “I also had a very normal and uninteresting day in town that isn’t worth mentioning in any way!”</p><p>And with that, she floored it and sped away from the scene. On their way home, they drove by cop cars responding to something in the opposite direction, and Ford looked at Stan with concern. </p><p>Stan was looking out the window, and did not turn to his brother the entire way home. As far as Ford could tell, Stan was trying not to think about it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>D vohhsb wrzq jhwv hyhq vohhslhu<br/>
Dqg yhub vrrq wklqjv zloo jhw hyhq fuhhslhu</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. (HISTORY IS WRITTEN BY THE WINNERS)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Fiddleford pays a visit. Ford engages in self care. Stan has a very, very weird day.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey guys! It's been a while again, but I have good news! Updates should start coming a little bit more frequently again - my job hunt is over, so my life is finally going to be a little more stable again and I can crank out the rest of this fic! Thank you so much to everyone who's left kudos and comments. Those have gotten me through a lot of really hard times and they mean a lot to me! Please keep them coming - this mystery's far from over and I can't wait to see all of your theories!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Becoming lucid in the mindscape was always a strange and sort of unpleasant experience for Mabel.</p><p>She knew how it worked. Anything she could imagine she could create, and that meant she would always be safe there, but the whole thing brought back some memories that...well, she wouldn’t want to forget about them, but they aren’t great to think about either.</p><p>The world around her was bright, but soft. The sky was a creamy white and in front of her was the Mystery Shack - undeniably the Mystery Shack - but a soft outline of it. It looked as though it had been drawn with watercolor color pencils and gently painted in. Everything was faint, but peaceful. There was a light breeze that brushed the hand-drawn grass by her feet.</p><p>Nearby, there was a line of small cut stones, just barely peeking out of the grass. Mabel’s shoulders fell.</p><p>“...oh,” she said. “I’m having one of these dreams.”</p><p>She supposed it couldn’t hurt to pay a visit. It wasn’t as though she could in reality anymore, with her time tape broken. So she strode over to the stones and crouched down, hugging her knees to stay in place. They were a series of headstones, a pastel cemetery in her mind. </p><p>“Hi everyone,” she smiled. “Mom, Dad, you’re looking pretty good! Hopefully there’s no trouble in...well, wherever you guys are.”</p><p>The stones didn’t answer.</p><p>“Grandpa Shermie, your favorite granddaughter’s here! How’s the Mrs.? Tell Grandma I said hi, okay?”</p><p>Again, the stones didn’t answer.</p><p>The next ones were harder. Much, much harder.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <i>Stanley Filbrick Pines<br/>
June 15th, 1948 - August 23rd, 2038</i>
  </p>
  <p>
    <i>Stanford Filbrick Pines<br/>
June 15th, 1948 - February 19th, 2040</i>
  </p>
  <p>
    <i>Mason “Dipper” Pines<br/>
August 31st, 1999 - May 8th, 2059</i>
  </p>
</div>“...Hey guys.” Mabel couldn’t keep holding her pose. She let herself slide down so she was sitting in the grass. “I miss you. I mean, I miss <i>all</i> of you, but…”<p>But they were the hardest. The three worst days of her life.</p><p>“Grunkle Stan, did you notice your tombstone is <i>two inches</i> bigger than Ford’s?” she asked. “Just like you wanted!”</p><p>The stone didn’t answer.</p><p>“And Grunkle Ford! I use the bag you made me <i>every</i> day,” she said. “It always makes me think of you.”</p><p>The stone didn’t answer.</p><p>She hesitated before the last one, unable to form the words. As she tried to figure out what to say, she held her hand over the ground in front of the tombstone. Several small blue asters sprouted instantly from the ground, in the shape of the big Dipper.</p><p>“Dipper. I-- I wasn’t ready for you to go,” she admitted in a hushed tone. “I don’t think I ever would have been. But...I wish we’d had more time, you know? You should have gotten to live to be a <i>super</i> old fart, like Stan and Ford did. ...We should have had another thirty years.”</p><p>She can feel her eyes starting to water up, and she shoves her palms at them to try and make it stop. She’s cried so much already.</p><p>“<span class="small">I just wanted more time.</span>”</p><p>“I <i>THINK</i> THAT CAN BE ARRANGED!”</p><p>Mabel startled so badly that she fell backwards and skittered back several feet. Casually sitting on top of Dipper’s tombstone was Bill Cipher himself - the real deal.</p><p>“What are <i>you</i> doing here?” she yelped, as she got up to her feet.</p><p>“I’M THE ONE WHO’S SUPPOSED TO BE HERE, SHOOTING STAR,” Bill said. “THE BETTER QUESTION IS WHAT ARE <b><i>YOU</i></b> DOING HERE?”</p><p>“I super don’t have to tell you anything,” Mabel huffed, crossing her arms. “Me and my family kicked your butt once and we can do it again!”</p><p>“HA! THAT’S NOT GONNA BE A PROBLEM! JUST LOOK ALL AROUND YOU!” Bill split himself into seven or so Bills and floated in a wide circle around Mabel and the graves. “LOOKS LIKE EVERYONE YOU’VE EVER LOVED IS DEAD! YOU’RE ALL ALONE HERE, AND YOU CAN’T TAKE ME BY YOURSELF!”</p><p>“Oh, go <i>away!</i>” Mabel shouted. “I’m not listening to you!”</p><p>She shut her eyes and wound up her arm, letting the mindscape double, triple, <i>quadruple</i> the size of her fist as she got ready to swing.</p><p>“WAIT, WAIT, <b>WAIT--!</b> STOP!” Bill pulled himself back into one piece with a ‘pop’ and held up his hands. “YOU’RE GONNA WANNA HEAR ME OUT, MABEL. I KNOW HOW TO GIVE YOU EVERYTHING YOU WANT.”</p><p>“Give me one good reason or I’m punching you right back into my repressed memories!”</p><p>“I KNOW WHERE DIPPER IS!”</p><p>Mabel lowered her hand, but she narrowed her eyes.</p><p>“Well, duh,” she said. “He’s dead. ...He died a few years ago.”</p><p>“NOT IN THIS TIMELINE HE DIDN’T!” Bill slid over in a wide arc until he was close enough to rest an elbow on Mabel’s shoulder (which she naturally tugged herself away from). “WHATEVER YOU DID TO THE TIMELINE--”</p><p>“I didn’t do anything!” Mabel interjected, but Bill flatout ignored her.</p><p>“--IT’S TRIED TO REMAKE THE YEAR 2012, BUT WITH A LITTLE...CREATIVE RECASTING, IF YOU WILL. EXCEPT FOR A COUPLE OF UNIVERSAL CONSTANTS LIKE SOOS, YOU MANAGED TO BREAK THIS TIMELINE SO BADLY I’VE GOT NO IDEA HOW TIME BABY HASN’T KNOCKED ON YOUR DOOR YET!”</p><p>Mabel didn’t answer. She still looked skeptical, even as Bill held out little projected models of Mabel and Dipper in the palm of his hand - at twelve years old.</p><p>“IF I’M RIGHT, AND I’M DEFINITELY RIGHT, THIS UNIVERSE IS WORKING WITH WHAT 2012 HAD LAYING AROUND, AND SINCE YOU AND DIPPER WERE BOTH HERE--”</p><p>The two projections shifted and contorted until they were the older models of Dipper and Mabel. Mabel couldn’t help but stare - he looked just like she remembered him, and he gave a friendly little wave.</p><p>“HE’S IN THIS UNIVERSE SOMEWHERE, AND I THINK I KNOW WHERE HE’S BEEN HIDING OUT,” Bill said, as the projections blew away into wisps of pale smoke. “YOU WORK WITH ME AND YOU’LL HAVE ALL THE TIME IN THE WORLD WITH HIM!”</p><p>There was the smallest spark of hope that Bill was right. Maybe Dipper <i>was</i> in this Gravity Falls, and the thought of seeing him alive again was almost too good to be true.</p><p>Fortunately, Mabel had learned a lot about things that were too good to be true. </p><p>She suddenly grabbed Bill by one of his lower points and ignored his protesting and flailing as she bent her arm in toward her chest.</p><p>“No way! I’d have to be crazy bananas to work with you!” she yelled. “You probably just want me to turn the portal on, and it’s <i>not happening</i>, Bill!”</p><p>“WAIT, WAIT, WAIT! MABEL, YOU’VE GOTTA LISTEN TO ME! YOU’RE MAKING A MISTAKE! <i><b>MABEL--!</b></i>”</p><p>“Have a nice flight!”</p><p>And with that, she flung him across her mindscape like a very sharp frisbee. The second he was out of sight, she sat up in her bed with a gasp.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>The morning only got weirder from there. Mabel nearly choked on a pancake when Stan asked her something over breakfast.</p><p>“You actually want to go <i>back</i> to the museum?” She needed to make sure she’d heard that correctly.</p><p>“Well...yeah,” Stan said, hesitantly, as though it was only just sinking in that this was a strange request coming from him. “It was kinda cool? There was nobody there, and we had the whole place to ourselves!”</p><p>“Mm, that was a little strange,” she had to admit. “But apparently <i>someone</i> tripped an alarm yesterday and they’ve had to go and hire more staff.”</p><p>She lifted up the day’s issue of the newspaper for him to see, and indeed it had BREAK IN AT THE MUSEUM as the major headline of the day, followed by a picture of cop cars at the entrance.</p><p>“Fine, we don’t need a ride!” Stan said, with crossed arms. “We can just hike over, or maybe even hitchhike over!”</p><p>“No can do, Pumpkin,” she said. “I need you two here today! I have a special job for you.”</p><p>Stan was unimpressed. “I’m not cleaning out the gutters.”</p><p>“What? Pfft, no. It’s--” She stopped though, looking across the table. “...Wait, where’s Ford?”</p><p>“Still sleeping,” Stan shrugged. “He’s been sleeping a lot lately.”</p><p>“Aw, I hope he’s feeling okay,” she said. </p><p>Stan didn’t meet her eyes. Instead, he changed the subject, steering the conversation back on course.</p><p>“So, uh. ...What did you need us to do?” he asked. “I can probably fill him in later.”</p><p>“Well…” Mabel hesitated, stirring her coffee more than strictly necessary. “...It’s about your friend Fiddleford. His dad’s going to bring him over today, for a playdate!”</p><p>“Grauntie Mabel, we’re not <i>six</i>. It’s not a playdate,” Stan said.</p><p>“True,” she conceded. “But you two munchkins need to be extra gentle with him. He...hasn’t been feeling like himself lately, and we’re hoping being around his friends might put him a little more at ease.” </p><p>That shook Stan. He remembered the bunker incident, and how broken and scared Fiddleford had looked when it was over. Had he really not recovered?</p><p>“...Yeah,” Stan said, looking down. “Yeah, we’ll help him. The whole thing was probably our fault in the first place anyway.”</p><p>To his surprise, Mabel reached across the table and ruffled his hair.</p><p>“I knew you would,” she said. “You’re a good kid, Stan.”</p><p>He made a face and fluffed his hair back into place. There was no arguing with Grauntie Mabel, but he still couldn’t say he <i>believed</i> her. That tiny thought though, that small prick of doubt made him pause.</p><p>“...Hey, uh. Grauntie Mabel?”</p><p>“Hm?” she asked. “What’s up, Buttercup?”</p><p>“You’re a pretty honest lady,” Stan said. “...You’re not lying to us about anything. Right?”</p><p>At first, Mabel didn’t respond. The kitchen went uncomfortably quiet. After an awkward beat, she summoned up an uncomfortable smile.</p><p>“Of course not, Stan. Just like you’d never lie to me about anything!”</p><p>Before Stan had a chance to react, Mabel collected her plate and dropped it unceremoniously in the sink with such gravity that it actually cracked.</p><p>“Welp! I need to go open the Shack for the day,” she said. “Fiddleford will be here around 1PM, so show him a good time, would you?”</p><p>With that, Mabel exited the kitchen and left Stan behind with pancakes settling uncomfortably in his stomach.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>By the time Ford made it downstairs, he was groggy and ravenous. He’d missed breakfast and it was closer to dinner than lunch. Even then, he planned to just grab the nearest snack and run off with it again. Then he could stuff his face and get back to conferencing with his muse about what he learned yesterday. He and Stan, by some miracle, had made a great deal of progress and Bill--</p><p>Bill was <i>impressed.</i></p><p>Of course, partnering with a being of infinite power did have its downsides. The primary one being that very little of the time he should have been spending resting was actually spent <i>resting</i>. His mind was always moving, and any time he wasn’t awake he was speaking with Bill and comparing notes.</p><p>It was like their Ma always said though - sleep is overrated.</p><p>Ford came to a halt at the foot of the stairs when he realized he could hear voices drifting in from the living room. One was certainly Stan, but the other...it was familiar, but there was an odd twang to it that made him uncertain.</p><p>“Oh, he’s <i>beautiful...</i>I’m so happy for you two!”</p><p>“Uh, thanks! Shanklin’s a good boy. But, uh. ...You remember him, right? Who could forget a face like this?”</p><p>This was followed by a familiar chittering that was almost certainly Shanklin. Ford’s breath hitched in his throat. Something wasn’t right, he knew it wasn’t right, but for a brief moment he allowed himself a second of hope.</p><p>Then he peeked around the corner, and all of that hope evaporated instantly.</p><p>Stanley was with Fiddleford, but Fiddleford was far from how Ford would have expected him to be. He was no longer the put-together young man that had made Ford’s heart flutter upon meeting. His posture was slouched and strange - crouched like some sort of animal. The only clothing he was wearing was a pair of overalls with no shirt beneath. He even went without shoes or socks. His feet were wrapped in bandages, and his arm was in a cast.</p><p>When Fiddleford turned to look at him, his gaze was wall-eyed. There was not a speck of recognition on his face, and Ford froze.</p><p>“Oh! I reckon you must be Stanley’s brother! Stanton?”</p><p>“...Stanford,” Ford muttered, unable to help the correction.</p><p>“<i>Stanford!</i>” Fiddleford slapped his knees a couple of times and then hocked a loogie into his hand, holding it out to shake.</p><p>Ford did not take it. He just stared.</p><p>This did not deter Fiddleford, who seemed used to people reacting to him this way. He just shook the loogie off his hand onto the carpet and jerked a thumb at himself.</p><p>“Well, I’m Fiddleford Hadron McGucket!” he said. “...Or I’m pretty sure I am. It’s all been sorta muddled lately. I might be my own grandfather!”</p><p>What could Ford possibly say to that? To <i>any</i> of this?</p><p>“Fidds, buddy,” Stan said, moving closer to his brother. “This is Ford! Remember? He’s your pal, just like me!”</p><p>Ford still didn’t move. Stan eventually had to elbow him.</p><p>“It’s about time you got up,” he said, not really whispering (though Fiddleford didn’t seem to notice or mind). “I’ve been having to field this mess by myself!”</p><p>That shook Ford from his stupor, but not from his terror. He staggered backwards, catching himself on the stairs. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Fiddleford, even though Fiddleford looked too lost to look at him back.</p><p>“I--”</p><p>Fiddleford tilted his head curiously, and even Stan looked concerned. All of a sudden, everything was too much. His chest was too tight and he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t <i>think</i>. Even without knowing what happened, he knew <i>why</i> it had happened.</p><p>“<span class="small">I-It’s all my…</span>”</p><p>The words died in this throat. He covered his mouth with his hands, and Stan reached for him again - but this time he jerked away hard and scrambled to his feet.</p><p>“I-I can’t. I can’t, I can’t. <span class="small">I--</span>”</p><p>And then, he was gone. He bolted right back up the stairs, leaving Fiddleford and Stanley behind. A beat passed between them, neither boy sure exactly what to do or how to help. It was Fiddleford who eventually broke the silence, with a laugh that went on <i>just</i> a bit too long.</p><p>“He’s a weird one, ain’t he?”</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>Ford shook as he drew the summoning circle. Trembling hands lit the candles.  As the world was drained of its color and time stopped around him, he fell to his knees and cried harder than he ever had before. Words tumbled out of his mouth before he could even think about them, confessing every wrong doing, every way he hadn’t been good enough to save his friend. He was almost certain he was going to throw up.</p><p>But Bill, his wonderful muse, his partner for all time, in <i>all</i> timelines - Bill was there for him. </p><p>“SHEESH KID, SOUNDS ROUGH OUT THERE IN REALITY,” he said, dryly. “SAY, I’VE GOT AN IDEA THOUGH!”</p><p>There was no heat radiating from it, but when Ford finally pulled his head up enough to look, Bill was holding out his hand. It was enveloped in blue flame.</p><p>“WHY DON’T YOU LET ME TAKE THE WHEEL FOR A WHILE?” Bill offered. “YOU LOOK LIKE YOU COULD USE A NAP, AND I’VE GOT AN IMPORTANT WORLD-SAVING ERRAND TO RUN ANYWAY.”</p><p>Ford stared at Bill’s hand as the offer fully sank in.</p><p>“TAKE A LOAD OFF! IT’S SELF-CARE, KID!”</p><p>Everything left in Ford that should have and would have said no had gone silent. His face was wet with tears, his throat raw as though he’d swallowed an entire brick. He was impossibly tired.</p><p>There was only one thing Bill could have meant by that. And that one thing...sounded good. It sounded really good right now. Ford absolutely did not want to be here anymore.</p><p>Ford wiped his eyes on the back of his sleeve, and took Bill’s hand. The fire spread to his own once again, and he reveled in the frostbite that spread through his body as everything went blank.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>Downstairs, Fiddleford and Stan were sitting on the floor playing with Shanklin. Or, more accurately, Fiddleford was playing with Shanklin and Stan was hugging his knees and fretting until he couldn’t take it anymore.</p><p>“He’s been up there way too long,” he said, suddenly standing up. “I’m gonna go check on him.”</p><p>“Eh, you oughta leave him be!” Fiddleford said, holding Shanklin up by two paws and gently making him dance. Shanklin was allowing it. “Sounds like whatever’s got him shaking in his shoes ain’t something he wants to be thinkin’ about. Too bad your Grauntie-Niece Mabel took my dang memory gun away, or I could give him a hand with that--”</p><p>Stan fumed, and whipped around to snap at Fiddleford, who recoiled instantly.</p><p>“Yeah, and a lotta good <i>that</i> did you! You barely even know who you <i>are</i> anymore!”</p><p>He turned and he bolted for the stairs - and instantly collided with Ford, who tumbled down from the force and landed with an “oof!” on his back in the entranceway. Stan only barely registered the fact that Ford was laughing on the ground. He just grabbed him by the hand and hoisted him back up on two feet, and held him by the shoulders when he seemed a little unsteady.</p><p>“Woah, sorry! You alright there, Sixer?” Stan asked. “I was just gonna go looking for you. You, um. ...You holding up okay?”</p><p>Ford’s whole face was stretched a little too wide. He was grinning so much it looked like it hurt, and his eyes were big and unblinking, as though he’d gone upstairs and downed an entire pot of coffee. Something wasn’t right about his pupils - they were long and thin like a cat’s.</p><p>“Me? I’m doing <i>fantastic</i>, Stanley!” he said, very enthusiastically. “I’m doing <i>sweeeeell!</i> Just peachy!”</p><p>“Uh. ...Yeah? That’s...good,” Stan said, unsure if it really was or not.</p><p>“Yep! I’m gonna go get some fresh air though.” He jerked a thumb toward the door. “And you’re gonna cover for me because you’re my favorite twin brother by default! Say, do you know where Mabel’s keeping the golf cart keys lately?”</p><p>That entire spiel was so sudden and weird that Stan was thrown for a loop and actually answered the question, though with more than a bit of hesitation.</p><p>“Um. In her bag, I think?”</p><p>Ford balled up a fist and went in for what Stan assumed was supposed to be a friendly punch to the arm. Instead, Ford socked him in the shoulder about three times too hard and laughed, and Stan hissed and clutched it. That was gonna leave a mark.</p><p>“Thanks, pal!” Ford smiled, all teeth. “Catch you later!”</p><p>He made a very dramatic heel turn and headed out, but not before accidentally banging himself into the doorframe and giggling like he’d snuck some of their father’s Scotch.</p><p>Stan, for the second time that day, was left in the dust.</p><p>“...Today’s been <i>really fucking weird</i>,” he said, more to himself than anyone else.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>It took Tate a while to track down Fiddleford’s friends. Turns out making a hobby out of building nuclear robots didn’t exactly make him the most popular kid at school, and Tate could never remember him bringing anyone over to play with.</p><p>Maybe he should’ve encouraged that more. But, he knew what it was like to just want to do your own thing without interruption or interference.</p><p>With Fiddleford at the Pines’ house, it gave him plenty of time to go around town and see if anyone had any pictures of his boy without having to wrangle him at the same time. Robbie Valentino’s little girl had a bunch of pictures that she’d apparently stuck stickers all over, and while Tate wasn’t sure if that would <i>help</i>, he figured at the very least it couldn’t hurt. Susan down at the dinner didn’t have any pictures, but she did have some sort of odd nonsense about food being the window to the soul (and handed him a huckleberry pie she’d made to go along with it). Young Bud Gleeful had been the most helpful, gladly handing over all of his middle school yearbooks to donate to the cause. Priscilla, the young heir to the Northwest fortune, said she’d text him some pictures “or whatever, if I remember”, which Tate supposed was better than nothing.</p><p>He decided it would be best to get everything home before he picked up Fiddleford, so the kid wouldn’t holler and fling anything out the window. He was still a bit early though, so he sat at the table with a strong cup of coffee and thumbed through the yearbook, reminiscing about a time when things were just a bit easier. </p><p>Fiddleford was only in the most recent yearbook, of course - they had only just moved to town last year, after all. Still, he’d borrowed all of the yearbooks Bud had been willing to share, on the off chance that something might trigger a memory or two. Anything that might buy a little normalcy.</p><p>He frowned as he opened the 2010 yearbook though. Something...wasn’t right. Carefully, he opened the 2011 yearbook again and slid the two next to each other.</p><p>Every picture, whether candid or posed, was exactly the same. Every outfit, every page layout. All of them were identical, except for the dates.</p><p>“That’s...odd,” he admitted to himself, sipping at his mug.</p><p>He was not given much time to process this thought before something backfired in the parking lot. Tate was on his feet in an instant, and threw open the door.</p><p>By the backdoor, where they stored the garbage and other things the town refused to pick up that needed to be driven to proper facilities, there was a golf cart loaded up with two barrels of radioactive waste. The kid driving wasn’t being terribly careful with it - a few spilled drops had burned holes in the dirt. </p><p>Tate didn’t think at all before he hollered.</p><p>“<b>HEY!</b> What the heck do you think you’re doing?! Stop!” </p><p>The shout only made the driver floor it, cackling at the top of his lungs the entire way down the road. The golf cart sagged with the weight of the barrels, but even in his truck Tate lost sight of it before he could catch up. There was a spot where it looked like the kid might have driven it off the road and into the woods, and if that was the case he'd never catch up.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <i>It was a long time before Stan saw the Time Traveler again. Her visits had become more and more infrequent, to the point where Stan stopped trying to spot her in crowds on the boardwalk.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Figures. The second an adult acts like they care about him, they disappear.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Summer turned to autumn, and autumn faded away into winter. The tourists all abandoned the boardwalk, but that never stopped Stan from heading down there off-season. It was better that way most of the time anyway - it meant he and Ford had the run of the place, like it belonged to them and them alone.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Today though, Ford was studying for a test. Stan also should have been studying for said test, but he’d told Ford he needed some air and snuck out through the fire escape. Daylight savings time had ensured that the sky was pitch black at 5PM, and stars were just starting to dot the sky.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>And there she was, leaning against the railing of the boardwalk, winter wind whipping at her long hair and skirt. The time traveler, as though she’d never left.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“...You came back.” Stan was stunned.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Before she could so much as open her mouth, Stan threw his arms around her middle, hugging her tightly. He could feel a beat of hesitation from her. Then, a hand on his hair, ruffling it.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Hi, Stanley,” she said, crouching down to his level. “Look...I’m sorry. But I can’t stay this time.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“What?!” Stan pulled back. “Why not? You <b>just</b> got back!”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>The time traveler gently tugged him back toward her, letting him hug out all the conflicting feelings rolling through him - something that wasn’t exactly encouraged in the Pines household.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“I made a huge mistake,” she says, petting his hair. “And if I don’t fix it, everything’s going to get really messed up. But...fixing it’s gonna mean I can’t come back here anymore.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Stan had already thought he might not see her again, but hearing it confirmed makes his eyes water in a way he wouldn’t have expected.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“I’m sorry, Stan,” She squeezes him tightly. “I missed you so bad and I did something really dumb--”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He shook his head against her.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“--but I didn’t feel right not saying goodbye. You’re probably not going to remember--”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“<b>No!</b>”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Shh, shh. Easy, kiddo,” she says. “I love you so much.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Her voice wavered. Distantly, Stan could hear something...beeping? What was that?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“I love you, Stan. You’re going to be one of my absolute most favorite people I’ve ever met,” she said, trying to soothe him through her own tears. “You’re going to grow up, and someday you’re going to be surrounded by family that loves you. You’re...you’re going to be my hero, Stan.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>None of it made any sense to him and he could barely hear his thoughts over the beeping, which was growing louder and louder. Finally, the time traveler stood up.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“I-- I have to go,” she said, trying to pull away. “Come on. Come on, I have to go. I’m...I’m sorry, Stan. You have to let me go.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He couldn’t. He <i>wouldn’t.</i> He clung tighter, and Mabel suddenly grew more desperate in her attempts, actually trying to pry him off of her.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Stanley, you can’t come with me!” she said. “You have to stay here! Let go!”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Just stay here!" he yelled back. "You don't have to go!"</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Yes, I <b>do!</b>"</i>
</p><p>
  <i>The beeping grew quicker and quicker, and something started rapidly flashing by her ankle. The two of them struggled for another moment, yelling and pushing and not paying any mind to locals who might see Stanley wrestling with an old woman.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>And then</i>
</p><p>
  <i>everything went white for both of them.</i>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Qfjb Yxyv fp dlfkd ql yb CROFLRP.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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